


Old Friends

by OpalMagnus



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17765987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalMagnus/pseuds/OpalMagnus
Summary: Even at 40 and with a heart condition, Kaiba refuses to give up being CEO of Kaiba Corp. When he experiences the death of an old friend, will he reconsider his own mortality? Can another old friend help him cope?





	1. So Long and Farewell

Seto Kaiba felt as if the world were underwater. Though they sat next to him, his family’s singing sounded distant and distorted by a humming that filled his ears. Everything lacked color, including the frosted birthday cake and candles approaching him. “Make a wish,” he heard a girl’s voice say. One of his nieces, he supposed. He watched the flames flicker on the wick, bits of wax dripping on the sides and sliding into the frosting. A wish, he thought. He wished only one thing for the longest time now. The flames were blown away before he could make that wish.

“Michi!” Mokuba scolded his youngest daughter.

“What? The wax was getting all over the cake.”

“Still,” he added in a harsh tone, “that wasn’t appropriate.”

Sachi, the oldest still no more than 14, stared at her uncle, awaiting a reaction to what just happened. A cool shadow clouded his eyes as his barren gaze fixated on the table yet nowhere at the same time.

“Uncle Seto,” she called to him under her breath so as to not startle him.

“Uncle Seto,” she whispered again, gently grasping the sleeve of his coat.

He awoke, blinking for a few moments as he readjusted to the real world. She gave him an uneasy smile. He looked around the room, unsure of why Michi was now looking timidly at the floor until he saw the last wisps of smoke evaporating into the air.

“It’s alright,” he stated. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Mokuba gave a look of concern, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. He noticed his brother’s condition ever since the day he came back from the afterlife, but even after several years, he had no idea how to address it. He had been to doctor after doctor, but no one was seeing this. They only seemed concerned with his physical state.

“Well,” Aimi, Mokuba’s wife, sighed, breaking the tension, “let’s have some cake.”

Aimi divided up the pieces among the four with some left over. Michi happily shoved mouthfuls of cake down her throat, washing it down with large swigs of milk. She wasn’t unlike her father in that regard. Sachi ate more mindfully, scraping small bites off her plate as she kept her eye on Kaiba. He sat stiffly, focusing on the piping decorating the edge of the dessert yet it remained untouched. She knew his mind was wondering again, but his eyes were still clear.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Michi interrogated him, licking frosting from her fingers.

“Michi! That is rude. If your father or I have to tell you again—“

“It’s alright,” Kaiba interrupted Aimi’s yelling, “I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

As he turned to leave, Michi’s sticky hand reached out for the plate only to be swatted away by her father. He returned upstairs to the guest room he usually stayed in when it became too late to go back to his manor.

This was a hell of a 40th birthday, he thought, sliding his shoes off and placing them under the Western-style bed. He allowed himself to fall back onto the satin covers, the only kind he cared to sleep in, feeling their silkiness with his fingertips as he stared up at the ceiling. He tried to make out shapes of recognizable things in the ornate patterns, but he saw only what looked like vines outstretching and branching off forever. Boring. He turned to his side, lifting the rest of his body onto the bed as he curled into himself. Why couldn’t he have one normal day? Not for his sake, but for Mokuba’s at least.  
Because I don’t want to be here, he reminded himself. That intrusive thought entered his brain multiple times a day like a fair-weather friend who keeps coming to visit. He expected the visit though and the routine somehow comforted him. On the rare days he forgot about it, something felt off, missing in fact.

He turned back to the door as he heard it open. “Mokuba,” he murmured.

Mokuba closed the door, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He smiled the way only two close people can, with a sense of warmth and knowledge. “Seto,” he exhaled and all the years of experience between them filled the room. It stayed quiet for a moment as Mokuba took in the surroundings, trying to find the right thing to say. Instead, he placed a hand over his brothers. They lasted like that for a long while. In those moments, Kaiba struggled for an answer to Mokuba’s unspoken question but failed. He thought about a lot in that darkness, about what he wanted to say. He wanted to thank him for trying to throw a nice little birthday party. He wanted to apologize for being like this. Even so, another part of him wanted to yell at him forever bringing him back in the first place. In moments of anger like that, Kaiba closed and imagined himself back in the afterlife.  
There was a steady breeze that combed through the palm trees along the Nile. The water glistened like stars and swirled like galaxies as it poured into the ocean. It was a cool but deep shade of blue a reflection of his own eyes. He remembered dipping his hands into the warm river, the current rushing through his fingertips. He remembered thinking it couldn’t be real, but it was. What left him speechless and his heart beating faster though was the sight of him. The pharaoh, Atem, his figure standing strong even as the wind picked up.

  
“We meet again, Kaiba,” he smirked.

  
But before Kaiba could say anything the vision would end and he found himself staring at an empty space on the wall, his brother’s hand giving a little squeeze. He seemed unaware that Kaiba was still awake and didn’t check before slipping out of the room.

  
Hours past and he laid awake, restless, his eyes tracing the designs on the ceiling. He couldn’t get Mokuba or the Pharaoh out of his head and he almost felt guilty for making them compete for a space in his mind. How many years had it been since he woke up? Seven? Ten? He had lost count by now. He only knew that every day away from the afterlife felt like limbo. Only one thing numbed that conflict between this world and the next.

  
Kaiba crept downstairs to the kitchen, careful to at least not wake the girls. Next to the refrigerator, Mokuba and his wife kept a select quantity of liquors for guests, although there was an unspoken rule that he should stay away. After all, if Mokuba caught him drinking again...well, he was a grown man. His younger brother’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Of course, he intended to replace whatever he drank with, preferably, something better than Suntory whiskey. He never understood why his brother insisted on living a middle-class lifestyle when he could’ve had all the money he wanted. Instead, Mokuba preferred a life away from KaibaCorp and away from the wealth. He decided to step down as Vice President once Kaiba returned. He took a sip, wincing as the spicy booze burned his throat. He had to admit, though, for cheap whiskey, it was drinkable. As soon as he knocked back his first glass, he immediately poured another one. And another. And another. He continued until half the bottle was gone. By this point, alcohol barely affected him, but he could feel the familiar flush in his cheeks rising. While he always promised himself he would stop at this point, he never did and thought it was just best to take the bottle upstairs where he could drink himself to sleep.  
Before he could, he would have to get past Sachi who snuck up on him at some point while he’d been guzzling away.

“Why are you awake?” He hissed.

“You don’t tell anyone I’m here to grab an extra slice of cake, and I say nothing about that bottle of whiskey,” she stated matter-of-factly, making a zipper motion across her lips.

He felt bad making a deal like that, thinking he should be a better uncle and tell her to go back to sleep, but he had no choice. “Fine.”

She nodded and went to the fridge, cut a slice, sat at the table, and patted the space next to her.

“No thanks, I think I’ll go back upstairs.”

“Nu-huh, if I get caught I need you here with me to say you let me.”

He scoffed. She was a bold girl. “And what makes you think I’d do that?”

“Because,” she smiled with feigned innocence, “is dad going to be more mad about the cake or you drinking again?”

Snorting in disgust, he accepted his defeat and sat next to her.

“Why do you drink so much anyway?” She asked, taking in a bite of her cake.

“Why are you stuffing your face at midnight?”

She shrugged, “I have exams coming up and I needed some brain fuel. Now as for you, I don’t think you can use the same excuse. What are you trying to forget?”

Shaking his head, he thought about how astute she was, too astute in fact. “Why have you drank to forget?” He teased.

“I’m ten,” she replied in disbelief. “I know that alcohol makes people forget things though and numbs the senses. It’s also a depressant so it actually will make your mood worse.”

“And where did you learn all this?”

“The junior high biology textbook. They’re thinking of bumping me up a few grades.”

“You should really be in private school,” he noted, taking another swig of whiskey. “I don’t know why your father won’t let me send you. You’d get a better education.”

“Dad says he doesn’t want to put the pressure on me. Says I need to be a kid.”

He lifted the glass to his lips. “Well, I can’t say I blame him for wanting that.”

He never really thought of it before, but now he wondered how Mokuba reacted to Kaiba’s schooling. All this time, he separated their experiences into his own bringing and his brother’s, but never how the two intertwined. What was it like to watch your older brother go through that kind of grueling day in and day out torture and not be able to do a thing? To feel so helpless, the way Kaiba felt at times when he couldn’t protect his brother. He guessed that was why Mokuba was so against pressuring his children to work hard, though, Sachi did anyways. She was a natural perfectionist not unlike her uncle. In fact, they were so alike it was uncanny at times. Not that, that was the most uncanny thing he’d experienced in all his years.

“So, you never answered me, whatcha trying to forget?”

He sat silently for a moment, contemplating.

“Good memories.” *************************************************************************************************  
In the morning, Kaiba hardly wanted to leave the bed, his head pounding in pain. Damnit, he thought to himself, why did I have to drink that much? He turned over to look at the empty whiskey bottle on the floor, surprisingly him. He really did drink a lot. He supposed today would be a late day at the office. Until his brother came barging in.

“Seto, wake up!” He yelled.

Seething, Kaiba grabbed his temple. “Can you please be quieter?” He groaned.

Mokuba frowned as he picked up the bottle. “Really, Seto? Really?”

“Happy birthday to me,” he sang, slurring the words.

“Well, too bad! You have to get up. Your driver’s here to pick you up for your doctor’s appointment.

“That old man? I’m not seeing him today,” he said, curling up again.

Mokuba pulled the covers off him. “You have to. I’ve heard you’ve missed several appointments? You can’t do that with your heart in its condition!”

“Stop yelling,” he grumbled. “I’m not getting up.”

Mokuba scowled and proceeded to open all the curtains in the room. The sunlight pierced Kaiba’s eyes, stinging like a thousand wasps.

“Damnit, Mokuba, I’m not getting up!”

“You are.” He nagged.

“I. Am. Not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. You. Are. It’s my house anyways, I can kick you out.”

“What are you going to do?” Kaiba snickered. “Call the cops?”

“No, because they wouldn’t dare arrest you, but I’ll throw you right out.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “You couldn’t pick me up if I was a gallon of milk.”

Mokuba snorted, accepting his challenge and in one fluid motion slid his arms underneath his brother, picked him up, and threw him over his shoulder. Kaiba was stunned for a moment, regretting his little retort. When had Mokuba gotten so strong?

“Put me down,” Kaiba insisted, concealing the acidity in his voice.  
Mokuba continued to carry him, seemingly deaf to Kaiba’s requests.

“Put. Me. Down. Now,” he added more forcefully this time.

“Make me.”

Now, Mokuba would regret challenging him. Kaiba crossed his arms over his brother’s torso and shifted all of his weight backward. Take aback, Mokuba had no time to strengthen his stance. Both came crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Mokuba groaned, but Kaiba let out a searing gasp of pain as the pain in his lower back radiated throughout his spine. In his younger years, this was a technique he would perform without thinking twice, but as he lay on the floor wincing he definitely rethought his decision.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Mokuba yelled.

Aimi and the children came barrelling out of their rooms. “What’s going on?” Aimi asked frantically, helping her husband sit upright.

“Because you wouldn’t put me down!” Kaiba lost his breath as each word caused more pain.

“Well, smartass, look what you did now.”

“Mokuba, tell me what’s going on!” Aimi panicked.

“Just help me up so I can go to the doctor.”

“Oh,” Mokuba arose and offered his brother a hand, “NOW, you want to go to the doctor.”

Kaiba took his brother hand, crying out as Mokuba tried to lift him up. “Yeah, because you broke my back.”

“I did nothing. You did that all on your own.”

“Because you wouldn’t put me down!” Kaiba growled.

“Alright, alright,” Aimi crossed her arms in an X. “Enough! Let’s just get you two to the doctor.”

“The driver is downstairs,” Mokuba explained, “Let’s just get him down there. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Kaiba shot back. “You should go too. Ride with me.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you right now.” He sighed, “but I should go.”

Carefully, Mokuba lifted his brother and leaned him on his shoulder. Every step felt like agony, especially the stairs as the shock made his back pulse uncontrollably. His brother tried to comfort him, but the pain was just too much. The concern annoyed him and managed to worsen his aching back. Once the driver saw the two outside, he leaped from the car, eager to help his boss.

“Sir, are you alright, sir?”

“Yes, I’m feeling just dandy thank you,” Kaiba sneered. “What does it look like, Moriyama?”

He apologized, bowing. “Allow me to assist you, sir.” He helped Mokuba prop Kaiba up on the left side, easing him into the back seat of the car. He winced through the process but eventually found a decent position to sit in. As the car pulled forward, Kaiba realized every bump sent him into a fit of agony.

“Moriyama, can’t you drive any better?” Kaiba snapped, seething. “What do I pay you for?”

“Sir, I’ll be more careful, sir.”

“Relax, bro,” Mokuba placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “he’s doing his best.”

Kaiba snapped again. “You’re not the one writhing right now, Mokuba.”

“Just think of something else,” Mokuba retorted, trying to hide his contempt for his brother’s piss-poor attitude. “Like your original reason for your doctor’s appointment. Worry about that instead.”

Though he hid it well, Kaiba secretly was concerned about this appointment. It’s why he had blown it off several times. Traveling to the afterlife had put an incredible strain on his body. He was close to dying at the point Mokuba brought him back. His organ function was abysmal, his brain waves barely showed any signs of life. At one point, the doctors were prepared to pronounce him deceased. He managed to pull through, however, to his dismay to this day. He remembered vividly how he woke up. One minute he was with the Pharaoh who had his servants bringing him water and food to try to keep his spirits up. Even in the afterlife, he was suffering, but he wanted to stay. To duel the Pharaoh again. And again. To be with the only person who inspired him to strive for greatness even if he was spending his days in bed, too weak to function. When he awoke, it was like a switch had gone off. One moment he was gazing upon the Pharaoh and the next he was looking into Mokuba’s pleading eyes.

“You’re awake,” Mokuba exclaimed tearfully. “It worked!”

His brother and the doctors congratulated each other on the success of the operation until Kaiba tore off his oxygen mask in a rage. “Bring me back, right now!” he bellowed. “How dare you.”

He didn’t care about his brother’s confused and then hurt expression. The doctors tried to rationalize that Kaiba was in a highly emotional state due to exertion. “To hell with your medical blabber, “ Kaiba shouted. “I want to go back. Now. Return me to the Pharaoh.”

His brother tried to soothe him, stroking his hair and offering words of encouragement, but it was useless. Kaiba jerked and twisted his body, attempting to break free of the restraints, screaming the Pharaoh’s name. The doctors pushed a torn Mokuba out of the way and forced his body against the bed as they inserted a needle into his outer thigh. He felt sleepy, exhausted. The room swayed side to side and his eyes could no longer stay open. They drugged him, he realized. He continued to mumble, “Pharaoh, Pharaoh,” as he drifted into a deep slumber.  
Since then, Kaiba tried to understand his brother’s decision, but he could never forgive him. Especially because his heart took such a hit. At his last doctor’s visit, his heart function declined to 50%. Not to mention his liver enzymes were elevated due to all the drinking. Before all this, Kaiba was the perfect picture of health. He trained hard physically and mentally, he ate only the freshest, finest foods, never touched alcohol or smoked. Having to admit poor health was like admitting he had faults. God knows Kaiba couldn’t do that. At the very least, his current trip down memory lane was distracting him from his back.

  
The car pulled up to the Kaiba Corp medical center, one of Kaiba’s many owned facilities. His company had reached its hands far into the market, buying hospitals, transportation facilities, department stores. They even started their own clothing and beauty line to attract more women into the gaming market. While it seemed like a low bearing fruit, it produced the desired results--more women bought Duel Disks along with Duel Monsters themed lip balm. Their vast industries prompted a new slogan: KaibaCorp, The Leader in Excellence. Kaiba and Mokuba entered the building and checked in respectively to their appointments. Of course, even while Mokuba’s was impromptu, he wouldn’t have to wait. The perks of being the CEO’s brother.  
A young, fairly pretty nurse monitored Kaiba’s vitals. As each result came in, she would frown without saying a word to the point where it finally aggravated him.

“Would you just tell me what you found?” he growled.

She gave another frown. “I’m afraid the doctor will want to speak to you about your results, Mr. Kaiba.” And with that, she exited the room.

Shortly after, Doctor Tagomi arrived. He was an older man, his clean-shaven face giving away every hardship in his life. Kaiba considered himself fairly lucky in that regard. Forty years old and the only tell-tale sign was a few gray hairs beside his ears and a smile line on his left side from smirking too often.

“Mr. Kaiba, pleased to see you,” he said, smiling, but Kaiba knew it was a small jab for missing his other appointments. “Your back is fine, just a slight tear in the muscle. Alternate warm and cold compresses on it. As you know the nurse checked your vitals and there are some...concerning numbers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rushed the doctor. “Just give me the news.”

“Mr. Kaiba, this is no time to be hasty. In fact, it’s very serious. To be frank, your heart function does not look good--”

“Just give me the number, Doc.”

Tagomi let out a long, concerned sigh. “25%”

Though Kaiba rarely wore his emotions so openly, he couldn’t contain his shock. His eyes stared widely at the doctor, hoping for some kind of good news to offset this while knowing there was none.

“That’s...that’s half of what it was a year ago.”

“And it will only get worse, Mr. Kaiba, if you keep refusing to take the medication I’ve prescribed,” he added. sternly. “You have yet to pick it up from the pharmacy.”

“I’m busy,” Kaiba stated matter of factly and looked away.

“You’re not going to be busy much longer. If you keep this up, you’ll be dead.”

He didn’t respond as that answer neither shocked or concerned him as much as the doctor would’ve liked. He looked into Kaiba’s wandering eyes, searching for a hint of fright, finding none.

“Is that what you want, Mr. Kaiba?”

“Of course not,” he replied hastily though unconvincing.

“I see.” The doctor turned to his computer and typed. “I’m resending your prescription to the pharmacy, do try and pick it up. Along with the water pills and the beta-blocker, I’m prescribing sertraline.”

Sertraline. The name sounded familiar. “Isn’t that Zoloft?”

“Yes, I believe you’re experiencing symptoms of depression possibly due to PTSD.”

“PTSD? From what?”

“Well, Mr. Kaiba, possibly from multiple events and only you can determine that. It could be from the shock of returning from the afterlife. It could be because of your divorce. Maybe even as far back as your parents’ death.”

The divorce. Another one of Mokuba’s bright ideas gone sour. In an attempt to give him a normal life, Mokuba set him up with some millionaires beautiful daughter. Kaiba was so far gone at that point, he had no strength to say no. So they got married and stayed married for three miserable years until she did something so unspeakable he couldn’t stand to look at her. He couldn’t even stand to think of her now.

Of course, the doctor didn’t know that Kaiba led a traumatic childhood after his adoption. The grueling day in and day out studying regiment Gozoboro put him through. How he was deprived of sleep, force-fed caffeine to stay awake. How he was denied food or water until he finished that last chapter or solved that last equation. Not to mention the constant berating comments of how he would never be good enough, how he would never succeed. How he was just an orphan brat. How his parents were happier dead than seeing what a failure they gave birth to.

“There’s no PTSD,” he replied flatly.

“Really? No flashbacks? No overwhelming memories? Hypervigilance. You know overachieving can be a form of hypervigilance--”

“I said I don’t have PTSD. There’s nothing wrong with me,” he snapped.

“Mr. Kaiba, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Listen,” Kaiba arose from the medical bed, “I’ve had just about enough of your half-cocked theories, Doc. If you don’t want to be fired and have your medical license revoked, I suggest you stop talking. Now.”

Before the doctor could say another word, Kaiba limped out of the room.

Mokuba was coming up the hallway, his eyebrows furrowed. He spoke softly, “Um, bro.” I--”

“Mokuba, get in the car, we’re leaving.”

“But, Seto, this is--”

“Does no one listen to me? I’m a god damn CEO. Do as I say and get in the car.”

Mokuba shoved a copy of the day’s newspaper in his face. Outraged, Kaiba almost tore it in half before a familiar picture caught his attention. Yugi, older with gray hair peppering his jet black hair, but it was still him. His warm smile brought back memories of Duelist Kingdom and Battle City, of fighting foes, and his encouragement despite it all. Yugi Moto, a name he hadn’t heard in years, dead at 40.


	2. Chapter 2: Old Friends

Yugi Moto. Age 40. Had been driving on the Domino Bridge towards West Domino when his car collided with an oncoming truck. He leaves behind his loving wife, his son, and his younger daughter. In lieu of flowers, please donate to Toys for Tots, an organization Yugi worked closely with to bring their presence to Japan.   
Kaiba read the article over and over again, hoping somewhere there was a joke being played. The more he read, though, the more the reality sunk in. Yugi Moto was dead. Per tradition, his public memorial service was set for 49 days from now which Kaiba knew the city’s version would be underrated. It had to be bigger, better. This was Yugi after all, the King of Games as far as the world was concerned. A knock on the door disrupted his thoughts. 

He growled, “Come in.” 

The maid brought him his usual breakfast of poached egg, grilled salmon, rice, and miso soup on a silver tray, placing it on his desk. 

“Oh! Before I forget, Mr. Kaiba. This note came for you. From Yugi’s wife.” 

She handed it to him and Kaiba eagerly read every word: 

“Please, come to the wake this Friday, 6 pm, at the Domino Funeral Home. I have something for you that Yugi wanted you to have.” 

Something that Yugi wanted him to have. What could it have been? Kaiba decided he would go early and find out what this was all about, but first he needed to call Mokuba. 

“Hello?” Mokuba answered after a few rings. 

“Mokuba, it’s me. Come to the Domino Funeral Home at 6:30 pm tomorrow. It’s for Yugi’s wake.” 

“But, the newspaper said that would be a private event. How did you--?” 

“I have my ways. Just come.” Kaiba hung up before Mokuba had a chance to interrogate him even more. 

*************************************************************************************************************

At 5:30 pm, Friday, Kaiba arrived at the funeral home, hoping to only meet Yugi’s family and not his gang of losers who were sure to show up. The simple white walls didn’t seem to do Yugi justice. He expected something much grander, gold even, but he supposed Yugi’s family didn’t have much in the way of money. He remembered that Yugi had made a fairly popular board game a few years back, though, he supposed even as the King of Games he couldn’t convince enough people to buy it. Consoles had taken over the market, due in part to KaibaCorp’s new, state-of-the-art VR system making other types of games nearly obsolete. Without KaibaCorp’s VR Duel Disk, even a card game like Duel Monsters would’ve been a thing of the past.   
Kaiba soon realized most of the effort was placed into the altar. Surrounded by hundreds of flowers was a picture of Yugi’s face, framed in gold. His knees shook as he approached, reacquainting himself with this picture that was definitely him, but different somehow. He had the same, beaming smile as always, but a softness in his almost tearful eyes had seen pain. Kaiba wondered what all these years must have been like for Yugi. He never really imagined it before, assuming everyone was having a decent, if not mundane life.He assumed only his life was filled with sorrow, but he would have never guessed someone like Yugi would be suffering. He was too kind, too pure or, at least, that was the image Kaiba wanted to hold on to. If the Pharaoh was his inspiration, Yugi was his drive, his only reason to believe in the good of the world. Now that was gone too.   
Gone, he couldn’t believe it. No, he didn’t want to believe it. He convinced himself this was pretend, practice for the real thing. That Yugi would come in at any moment, place a hand on his shoulder, and thank him for coming. It was too soon. After all, he himself was only 40 which would have comforted him if the doctor’s words weren’t looming in his brain. 25 percent. Only 25 percent of his heart was working. This wasn’t something he could will away or work past. It was 25 percent and it would only get worse. If that was the decline within a year, how long until it was at zero? He shuddered and placed his offering, a hefty sum of a million yen, on the altar.   
He became aware of someone sobbing, a woman. He turned around to see a familiar face though she was older now with streaks of gray in her brown bun. She was still slender with a dancer’s frame, but two deep smile lines framed her now quivering lips. Her bright blue eyes were filled with tears, too many to see him. 

“Anzu?” 

She looked up, confused. “K-kaiba?” 

Anzu Mazaki. He hadn’t thought of that name in a long time. For a moment, he wondered why she was here until he realized this must have been Yugi’s wife. Those two were inseparable back in the day. 

“You look like hell,” Kaiba replied hastily, remembering how she always used to look so cheery even when she cried. Now, it was hard to tell she ever used to smile. 

She huffed. “Oh jeez, thanks Kaiba,” she jeered and wiped the tears away with the back of her arm. She wept even more. “It’s not like I have something to cry about right now.”

“Damn, Anzu, I didn’t--” his tone softened as he recognized his fault. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Her whimpering subsided for a moment. “Th-thank you.” 

“Hello? Is anyone here?” a male voice called from the waiting room. 

“Oh God, it’s Jounouchi. I can’t do this,” she cried softly. She rushed for the back exit, with Kaiba following close behind. 

“Wait!” he called out, running through the parking lot. “I’ll get you out of here for a moment. Get in the town car.” 

Moriyama was waiting as if on cue, holding out the door. Anzu and Kaiba hopped in with Kaiba closing the door as the driver stepped on the gas. 

“That was close,” Anzu sighed. 

“Why do you want to avoid him so badly? On second thought,” he paused, “I would want to avoid that mutt too.” 

She sighed, looking forlorn out the window, “that’s not why I’m avoiding him, Kaiba.”

He decided to switch the subject to the important topic. “You said you have something for me?” 

“What?” she sat up and faced him, puzzled. 

“Your note,” he prompted. “You said in your note you had something Yugi wanted me to have.” 

“I--Kaiba I haven’t seen Yugi in years. Not since we dated.” 

“What?” It was his turn to be baffled. “Moriyama, stop the car.” 

With a sudden jerk, the driver pulled over to the side of the road. 

“You’re not Yugi’s wife?!” he yelled. 

She was taken aback. “Me?!” she exclaimed. “N-no” 

He groaned. “Moriyama, take us back.” 

“Kaiba! No! I can’t go back there,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm. 

He shrugged her off. “I don’t care why you can’t go back there, but I need to. You can walk home if need be.” 

“Kaiba, please, just drop me off a little further up and I can take the bus back home.” Now, she had her hands clasped together as she begged. 

“Like I said, I couldn’t care less if you walked home. Besides, we’ve already turned around.” 

Though Anzu stopped protesting, it didn’t stop her from holding herself tightly as her eyes stared anxiously at the seat in front of her. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. What could Miss Perfect Mazaki have done that she’d be so worried about?” 

“It’s not about what I’ve done, it’s about what I haven’t and I haven’t seen them in years. They’re all gonna hate me. 

He rolled his eyes. “Some friends they would be if the hated you just for being gone.” 

She looked at him for a moment, detecting his sarcasm, but smiling anyway. “I know you’re trying to be a jerk, but that actually helps.” 

“Tch. I’m just pointing out how stupid your thought process is.” 

“Wow,” she smirked, “you’re really bad at this being mean thing. You’re out of practice.” 

“Keep it up, Mazaki, and I’ll just have to practice on you.” 

She chuckled. “At this point, I think I’d spar better than you.” 

He huffed. “I should’ve kicked you out when I had the chance.” 

“You should’ve.” 

 

While she snickered on the outside, inside she didn’t feel she had much of a reason to laugh. When they returned, she would still have to deal with the gang. It had been over twenty years since she last saw her old friends, including Kaiba. Now, they were all converging at once and, surprisingly, seeing Kaiba was almost a relief. There wasn’t any bad blood between them and he had no idea about her and Yugi, how she broke his heart. Even if he did know, his opinion barely mattered. Maybe her lack of concern for his judgment was why he was so easy to talk to him now.   
They arrived back at the funeral home which was now hustling and bustling with people in the parking lot. She recognized a group of people standing by the door--Mai, Jounouchi, Honda, and Bakura. Jounouchi stood next to Mai in such a familiar she guessed they must be together now. How he managed to catch a girl like Mai she would never know, but the two fit together. Two younger girls clutched onto their parents’ clothing, shying away from Bakura attempting to introduce himself.   
Jounouchi switched out his boyish good looks for a rugged, Western appearance. A five o’clock shadow speckled his cut jaw. Despite the fine lines etched across the various parts of his face, he maintained that youthful glint in his eyes, signaling he was still the same fool-hardy man he was twenty years ago. Mai’s skin looked a little rougher, but damn did she refuse t let a gray hair show behind her perfectly coiffed blonde locks. She kept her bodacious body, probably through a regiment of vigorous exercise and plastic surgery, and she attempted to hide her wrinkles through a smattering of heavy makeup that only succeeded in making her look older. Honda was barely recognizable behind his mustache and paunch. He wore a suspenders underneath his black suit jacket, giving him an old, hefty dad vibe. He also, though, carried a feisty glimmer in his eyes that let her know he was still Honda.   
She turned to Kaiba, wondering if she could recognize a part of the old him as well. It wasn’t that hard considering time failed to touch him save for a few lines and a smidge of grey hair that only complimented his features sharp features. Even the darker circles under his eyes somehow beautified him. She had never really noticed how handsome he was before and tried to remember if he was as handsome back then too. Come to think of it. He was. 

Suddenly, his stark, icy blue eyes were staring into hers. “What are you looking at, Mazaki?” 

She froze, suspended by his glare. Were his eyes always so brilliant? She stammered as she exited the car, “S-sorry, I was just thinking.” 

He looked at her blankly, pondering what exactly was wrong with her. Why would she want to spend any longer in this car then she had to? It’s not like either of them enjoyed each other’s company. He watched as she walked towards her old friends, meekly. He didn’t understand it. What exactly was she so afraid of? If he had more time to care, he would press, but he was on a mission--to find Yugi’s wife. He entered the funeral home and began his search.   
Meanwhile, Anzu approached the group as they laughed at some joke Jounouchi had made, hoping she wouldn’t have to speak first, but as they continued to chatter, Anzu realized she would have to. A million thoughts ran through her head. What do I do if they hate me? How will I react? Where will I go? What will they say? 

She mustered up all her courage, finally greeting them with a simple, “hello.” 

They turned all at once, amazed. She tensed, awaiting their responses. 

“Anzu? Is that you?” Jounouchi seemed startled still. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Anzu replied, timidly. 

The group burst into joy, hugging her and greeting her. 

“Anzu, it’s so good to see you!” Mai exclaimed. 

“Same here,” Hona added. 

Jounouchi smiled proudly. “Happy to see ya, Anzu.” 

She smiled, the warmth of their embraces ease her anxiety. It was like old times as if they’d never separated in the first place. The twenty-year gap closed as they held her tighter and she fought back tears. 

“It’s good to see you all, too,” she replied softly, brushing a tear from her eye. 

Jounouchi’s face sank as he changed as the grim reminder of why they were all gathered set in. “Are we ready to go in?” 

Anzu took a deep breath. “I think so.” 

Taking Jounouchi and Anzu’s hands, Mai sternly looked each member of the group in the eyes. “Together.” 

Honda and Bakura joined in, giving a strong nod. “Together.” 

With those words of encouragement, hand-in-hand, they walked in together to face their greatest challenge yet--the death of their best friend. 

Kaiba noticed the dork squad walking in, holding hands like this was a game of ring-around-the-rosie. Pathetic, he thought, but it was something Yugi would do. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any hint as to who Yugi’s wife could be and wondered why she was being so secretive. Why wouldn’t she be more noticeable in a time like this? Shouldn’t she be greeting the guests? He jolted, feeling a sudden tap on his shoulder. 

“So good to finally meet you,” a woman’s voice greeted him, an eerie undertone lurking in her words. 

He turned to face a buxom woman in her late 30s with hair dyed a dark reddish brown and curled to frame her rounded face. Her small mouth was fixed in a barely innocent half-smile yet her large, dark brown eyes were soft, suggesting that she was sincere after all. 

“And you are?” 

“Madoka. Madoka Moto. Yugi’s wife,” she clarified, offering her hand. 

He shook it. “Nice to meet you, then. You have something for me?”

“Have you met my son?” she replied, gesturing to a teenage boy approaching them. “Setsuya, this is Seto Kaiba, one of the men you were named after.” 

He bowed and greeted him with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Same,” Kaiba replied flatly, hiding his surprise. Why would Yugi name his son after someone like him? Sure, he was great, but they weren’t always on the best terms. By the sound of it, Yugi had combined his name with Jounouchi’s first, Katsuya, an insult to Kaiba. Yugi was fond of mementos like that, he supposed. He focused back on Madoka. “Now, for this something?” 

“Not now,” she jumped on his words. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow at the funeral.” 

“The funeral?” His eyebrows rose. “But I wasn’t planning on attending.” 

“How sad,” her eyes dropped to the floor, “for you to not mourn your friend properly. He was dying to give you this gift.” 

 

His heart stopped for a moment, but before he could reply Madoka wrapped her arm around her son and urging him in the opposite direction to talk to another group. Dying. He was fixated on the way that word came from her mouth with such acidity and accusation that he almost felt responsible for all this. He glanced at Yugi’s photo, this time apologetic, pondering what he could have done. 

“Thank you for coming,” Madoka addressed to the group. 

Jounouchi gave her a tight hug. “Madoka, I’m so sorry for all this.” 

“Oh, Jou, thank you,” she replied under her breath, her voice cracking. “And thank you for coming to the house the other day. You made such a lovely dinner.” 

“Anytime, hon,” he said, smiling. 

Anzu felt a little uncomfortable not knowing who this woman was while Jounouchi seemed so familiar with her. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Anzu Mazaki, one of Yugi’s old friends.” 

“Ah, Anzu, yes. I’m Madoka, Yugi’s wife. He told me all about you.”

Anzu gave a small, unsure chuckle. “All good things I hope?” 

“Yes,” she answered, but the hurt in her eyes worried Anzu. They must’ve discussed how Yugi and Anzu broke up, but she wondered in how much detail. If she knew the full story, well, Anzu really had something to be nervous about. 

Honda, Mai, and the children expressed their condolences, then, reminisced on some of their more recent experiences with Yugi around. Anzu simply stood there, listening and responding with the appropriate reactions--shock, laughter, a smile--as they all told their stories. Though she was surrounded by friends, she never felt so alone. 

“Hey,” Mokuba greeted an isolated looking Anzu. She turned from the group, a small smile curling her lips. 

“Mokuba,” she replied, hugging him. “I haven’t seen you in forever. When did you get so tall?” she laughed. 

“A long time ago,” he snickered in reply. His eyes darted over to the far side of the room and he frowned. “There’s my brother, being a loner again.” 

“I’m surprised he even showed up,” Jounouchi interjected, scoffing. 

“Hey,” he retorted, “Of course he showed up. Yugi was just as much his friend as he was yours.” 

Though Jounouchi wanted to argue that point, Mai placed a warning hand on his shoulder, her eyes pleading with him to let it go. With a disgruntled huff, he did. 

“He’s acting kind of weird,” Anzu remarked. “He was concerned about something Yugi was supposed to give him earlier.” 

“And how would you know that, Anzu?” Jounouchi accused. 

“Because I talked to him, Jou,” she replied matter-of-factly. 

“You know,” Jounouchi began, “it’s a little weird that you two walked in together.” 

“You walked in together?” Mokuba asked, surprised and too amused for her liking. 

“Jounouchi,” Mai inserted herself, “you’re being rude.” She addressed Anzu directly, “Honey, what you do is your business.” 

“There’s nothing going on. Nothing was weird about us walking in. I just needed a familiar face to help me out, okay?” 

“How familiar?” Jounouchi interrogated, but Mai elbowed him in the gut. 

“Knock it off,” she replied, unconcerned with her husband’s grimace as she took a long sip from her wine glass. 

“How familiar?” Mokuba asked, a devilish grin forming on his face. 

“Not in the way you’re thinking and mark my words, I would never, ever be caught dead dating Seto Kaiba.” 

“You wouldn’t be caught alive either, Mazaki.” 

She groaned. Of course, he was standing right behind her. She turned to face him. 

“I was just clarifying for Jounouchi and your little brother.” 

“The feeling’s mutual, Mazaki. Though, quite frankly, you’d be all too lucky to have me.”

“Ha!” She threw her head back. “You’d be lucky to have me for five minutes, you arrogant jerk. Not that I think you could last for five minutes.” 

Mokuba’s beaming expression of mischievous delight and Jounouchi’s shocked face let her know she had just implied more than she meant to. Before she could take it back, Kaiba was already leaning into her ear. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mazaki,” he whispered, his hot breath gliding down her neck. 

Her cheeks burned, defeated by the playful sultriness in his voice. How dare he, she thought. Had he no decency at a wake of all things? 

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t,” she huffed and stormed off. 

Kaiba smirked, pleased at his victory. He had once again proved he could rile up anyone he wanted. With that little game as his cue, he nodded to Mokuba, signaling it was time to leave. 

“Oh Kaiba,” Madoka called out after him. “You must stay. I insist.” 

Facing her, he put on his best polite voice which still carried a hint of annoyance. “Really, I can’t. Mokuba and I have to go to bed early for the funeral tomorrow anyways. Isn’t that right, Mokuba?” 

“Well,” he paused for a moment, downcast as he thought. “Would Yugi want us to stay?” 

Of all the guilt tripping things Mokuba could have said, why did he choose to pick that one? Whose side was he on anyways? Kaiba grit his teeth. He had just about enough of his yearly dose of the Pal Patrol and he wasn’t looking forward to seeing them tomorrow either. Might as well ease his suffering and leave while he could. Besides, only close members of the family needed to stay throughout the night, as Kaiba unpleasantly recalled from his parents’ wake as well as Gozoburo’s. 

“Of course Yugi would want you to stay. You were more than friends to him, you were like family. Please stay,” Madoka continued to press. 

“I’m not staying,” he said, his voice so finite and direct, it startled everyone in the room.

“Fine,” she settled, but no without one last remark, “some way to treat a friend, Kaiba.” 

Fuming, he almost stomped off right then and there, but he was determined to visit Yugi’s memorial one more time, to prepare himself for the viewing of the body tomorrow. As he advanced, a strong lump formed in his throat. He hoped Yugi would forgive him for not staying, but he couldn’t. It was too much to be here in the first place, that all of this needed to even happen. That Yugi was dead. Those words swirled around in his head for a moment and finally the reality set in. He was gone. Kaiba controlled the most powerful company in the world, was the second-ranked duelist all of time, toppled his opponents on or off the field, struck awe to those who heard his name, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about this. 

“Kaiba,” Anzu said gently and touched his shoulder. 

He neither shrugged her off nor responded as much as he wanted to snap, but it was best for him to keep his cool, to show he was unbothered by the whole affair. 

She sighed, thinking for a while for the right words. “You know, I left things off badly with Yugi so it’s been hard for me too.” She gazed upon him and, not seeing a reaction continued, “I feel really guilty about not having the chance to apologize. So I can understand if--” 

“You have no idea what I’m going through right now, Mazaki,” he snarled, brushing past her as he left for the car, keeping his head down and his eyes behind his overgrown bangs.


	3. Chapter 3: Fanning the Flames

Anzu Mazaki took a deep breath. It was the day Yugi would finally be cremated. The day she would have to see his body, lifeless in his casket. In truth, she had never known anyone close to her who had died, only a few of her father’s friends. She had no idea what to expect, but she sensed it would be even stronger than the remorse and sorrow she felt now as she simply scrubbed the dishes in her kitchen. A warm light poured through the window in front of the sink and she looked out longingly at the single tree in their backyard. It looked a lot like the one Anzu saw Yugi sitting under that night, his eyes wide and filled with moonlight as he whispered softly, “I love you.” 

“Anzu, dear!” Her mother called out from the living room and Yugi’s face faded from her thoughts. 

“Coming, mother,” she replied, dropping a dish back into the sink as she rushed to her. 

Her mother lay there, coughing and hacking in her medical bed, struggling to get her words out. Anzu awaited, anxious, hanging on to every syllable that managed to escape her mother’s throat. “What is it, Mom?” she pleaded. “Water? You need water.” 

Her mother nodded and she quickly retrieved a glass, propping it against her lips for her. She gulped about half the glass in one sitting, before letting out a satisfied sigh. “That’s better. I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to bother you, but I’m having trouble getting comfortable. Can you help me adjust my pillows?” 

“Of course.” She followed her mother’s request, offering a small smile to reassure her it was no inconvenience. Though helping her mother day in and day out was emotionally exhausting, she genuinely enjoyed doing so. It gave her a great sense of pride to give back to the woman who had given her so many opportunities, including her chance to study and perform dance in New York City. 

Anzu’s smile waned though as a morbid realization crept into her mind. Someday soon, she would be attending her mother’s funeral. The doctor’s determined her cancer was terminal and there was nothing more they could do. She had six months to a year to live and the six-month mark was fast approaching. As her mother noticed her troubled expression, Anzu quickly shook away the thought. 

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” her mother asked, taking in her daughter’s hand. 

Anzu placed a hand over her mother’s. “It’s nothing, Mama. I’ve got to get ready for the funeral though. Dad will be here, though.” 

“Alright, thank you so much for all you do,” she smiled, “you’re a good daughter.” 

With that, Anzu nodded and headed upstairs before the tears could flow. Between her mother’s sentiments and this funeral, she couldn’t handle the feelings welling up inside her. She entered her room with a long sigh, readying herself for the task of getting dressed. Though she lacked a formal kimono, she had a few appropriate black dresses to choose from. She slipped one on and took a long hard look in the mirror. Frowning, she pulled at all the extra fabric hanging from her body. She had gotten even thinner since she came home, to the point it no longer filled her with delight. Her once rounded cheeks now sunk in and her lean, dancer’s physique was beginning to look frail and bony. At this rate, there’d be nothing left of her at all. She switched into her other dresses before settling on one that decently fit, though, it too was loose. 

She headed downstairs. “Bye, Mom, I’m leaving now.” 

“Bye, darling. Good luck.” 

*************************************************************************************************************

Seto Kaiba stared long and hard at the flickering light of the computer screen in the darkness of his office. Though it was 7 am, he had all the shades pulled down for maximum effectiveness. He felt he worked better in isolation and a dark, silent room among his stacks of books provided the perfect space. His plans for Yugi’s memorial were well underway as he planned out exactly what he was going to do and programmed his improved AI to execute all his plans. 

Mokuba brashly entered the room. “Hey, bro?” 

“Can’t you see I’m working, Mokuba?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I haven’t worn a tie in so long and I was hoping you could…” his voice trailed off, too nervous to ask the question. 

Kaiba groaned. “You’re a grown man, Mokuba.” 

“I know, but I don’t wear regular ties! I usually use clip-ons,” he admitted, looking down at the floor. 

“Fine. Come here.” 

Kaiba’s stance softened as his brother approached. Taking the tie into his hands, he gingerly knotted it underneath the shirt collar. Mokuba looked just like he did as a kid, fixated on Kaiba’s hands, trying to memorize their motions so he could duplicate it later. He could never remember though, even at 38. His brother’s eyes rose to meet his, smiling with gratitude and admiration. 

Kaiba chuckled. “There ya go, Mokie.” 

Mokuba beamed at that old nickname, “Thanks, bro.” 

His expression changed to fit the serious occasion. “Are you ready?” Mokuba asked. 

Kaiba took a long, deep breath. “Yes, I think I am.” 

*************************************************************************************************************

All assembled outside the funeral home. Madoka and her two children were already inside, paying their respects. In the parking lot, Anzu noticed Kaiba exiting his car and their eyes met for a brief moment. She offered a polite grin, but he simply looked away. Damn jerk, no manners. 

As they entered, Anzu held her breath, anxious for her own reaction as well as others. The casket came into view and as people approached the window of the casket, there were gasps and sobs underneath the gentle music playing on the overhead system. It had been so long since she’d seen his face. Almost twenty years. Would she recognize him? Of course, she would. It seemed like everyone here knew him better than she did, though she’d known him for so long. Since grade school, Yugi and Anzu did everything together. She played board games with him on the playground, protected him from the school bullies, and confided all her secrets to him. She smiled, remembering the time she attempted to teach Yugi kickball, but his lack of hand-eye coordination wouldn’t allow him to play. The ball crashed right into his face more than a few times. She chuckled. Oh, Yugi, how did it end up like this? She wished she could tell him what was on her mind now, how much she would miss him. How she wished she could hold him just one more time. She turned back to Mai and Jounouchi who gave her a solemn nod, assuring her everything would be okay. As she approached the white, cherry blossom-decal casket, however, she had her doubts. 

He seemed peaceful like he was asleep. Ready to wake up at any moment. Though age had changed him, he was wearing his signature pure smile. Even at rest, he looked happy. She smiled too, fighting back an onslaught of tears that threatened to spill over. She felt like she’d been standing there for hours, gazing upon him. A rush of old memories flooded her mind--their trips to the amusement park, admiring the sunset on the school rooftop, and, of course, the tree where she broke his heart. His eyes. His fingertips. Her skirt. She couldn’t hold back her crying any longer, feeling the stinging guilt of that moment all over again. Her breathing became heavy and stifled as tears streamed down her cheeks. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, comforting her. 

“It’s okay,” Jounouchi cooed, “it’s okay.” 

Mai quickly followed along with Honda who hugged her until she could finally calm down enough to step aside. 

Kaiba rolled his eyes. Yes, he understood this was a sad event, but he could do without the dramatics. His turn was next. Seeing Yugi’s body was almost of no comfort. After all, he felt as if Yugi would wake up at any moment and excitedly greet him. But he wouldn’t. He was gone, but Kaiba convinced himself the person in this coffin wasn’t really Yugi. This was still all some misunderstanding and Yugi would come barreling through the door, laughing about how he played this grand trick on all of them. Or he would wake up, proving the doctor’s wrong. Kaiba, he said to himself, you have to admit he’s gone. 

“Goodbye, Yugi,” he whispered before allowing his brother in front. 

Mokuba handled the affair a little less gracefully. Soon, he too was blubbering and Kaiba couldn’t mock Anzu for her sensitivity. Like Jounouchi, Kaiba tried to wrap a supportive arm around his brother and take him back to his seat. 

“It’s okay, Mokuba, it’s okay.” 

“We should’ve stayed last night, Seto,” he whimpered 

That hit Kaiba where it hurt. He could ignore a lot of things, but even in his old age, hearing Mokuba’s voice crack choked him up. 

He answered him softly, his voice breaking, “Yugi would’ve understood.” 

As the two returned to their seats, the Buddhist monk arrived to chant the Lotus sutra prayer. All stood as the prayer beads were passed around. Kaiba had forgotten about them but assumed he could manage to put them on himself. He began looping the beads around his hands, feeling triumphant until they unwound, dangling around his fingertips. He tried again with the same result. He attempted for a while before turning to Mokuba who couldn’t free his fingers because he had tied them up so tightly. Last time Kaiba went to a funeral, he was 14 and his butler wrapped the beads for him. He looked around, hoping to copy off someone else, but everyone had theirs on already. Then, he noticed Anzu coming towards him. Great, he thought. Just what he needed. Though he was being sarcastic, he had to admit he did need help. 

Her hands delicately wove the beads around his hands and he felt the softness of her brush against his skin. They were warm too and so small compared to his. They had no trouble entwining his hands. She made it look like an art. He stood there, amazed at her craftsmanship. 

“Thank you…” he finally sputtered. 

She smiled, moving onto Mokuba’s, “you’re very welcome, Kaiba.” 

“You’re welcome” and “Kaiba” didn’t belong in the same sentence because it implied a thank you that he rarely gave. He suspected she said it on purpose though, knowing how much it would bother him. He glared at her, searching for any sign of her alleged mockery. Instead, he found only a tender expression, looking towards the ground as she thought of something. Then, she followed the monk’s movements, clapping three times as he did. Kaiba snapped out of his trance and clapped as well, his solo claps echoing against the monk’s chanting. Great, he embarrassed himself. No one looked over though. They were so intently focused on their own praying to pay attention to his screw up. 

 

When it came time to clap again, Anzu looked over to Kaiba, lifting her hands as if to cue him. His hands came together this time, correctly, thanks to her. He didn’t entirely understand why she was being so helpful. It seemed like that was her way of coping, by helping others. As much as he didn’t understand that sentiment, he knew Yugi would appreciate her right now. He nodded to her, a silent thank you. After all, he had a secret quota on how many “thank yous” he could say aloud. She simply smiled back. For once, her expression warmed him. Maybe, having someone care at this difficult time wasn’t such a horrible thing after all. 

Next, a few of Yugi’s friends--Jounouchi, Bakura, Honda, and a few faces he couldn’t place--each grabbed a handle on Yugi’s casket and prepared to march him to the crematorium. All arose, following the casket to the basement level of the funeral home. Soon, his ashes would be placed in an urn and they would stay with his wife until she decided where to bury them in the weeks to come. 

Kaiba could feel the heat of the fire radiating from the perfectly sized hole where Yugi would go in. The last time he watched someone go into that furnace, he was happy to see him burn. Gozoburo Kaiba deserved to burn then and forever for what he did to him. But now, this was not unlike when he watched his parents be cremated. This moment would be the final time Yugi’s body would be whole. He found the whole spectacle a little morbid when he thought of it that way. His friends raised his casket higher and he slid in. 

“Watch closely Kaiba,” Madoka advised, her voice firm and unwavering. 

He looked to her for a moment. The crematoriums fires reflected in her eyes, blazing against their amber coloring. Kaiba’s body filled with a stunning chill, though a bead of sweat formed on his brow. His own eyes widened, as the flames consumed her glare. He took a few steps back, shivering. 

“After all, you’re the reason he’s burning.” 

Kaiba turned back to Yugi’s body, raising his hand as if to stop him from going in, to pull him back from death, but the casket already tipped into the furnace. The wood crackled in the fire, sending a few sparks into the air. People began to leave, but he couldn’t move. His heart and breath seemed to stop, then, began slowly. All he could hear in his head was the constant beating of his heart. The sharp scent of burning pine filled the air and he imagined that, soon, it would be replaced by burning flesh. He couldn’t feel anything. Not even Madoka slipping the long-awaited package in his hand before she walked away.


	4. Chapter 4: A Cat Got Kaiba's Tongue

Kaiba was in a hot sweat. Flames engulfed him, climbing high into the surrounding darkness. No idea where he was, he darted around the wall of fire, searching for a way out. Each hopeful break in the flames was soon filled and he found himself completely encircled by the encroaching fire that threatened to kill him. 

 

“Kaiba,” a voice moaned, echoing throughout the room. 

 

“Kaiba.” There it was again. Kaiba jerked his neck from side-to-side, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. 

 

“Kaiba.” The voice was in front of him now, but he couldn’t see who, though, it had a certain pleading softness that he recognized. 

 

A figure approached from the fire, calling his name. Kaiba’s eyes grew wide as the form took shape. It couldn’t be. 

 

“Yugi?” He asked, doubting his own conclusion. 

 

As Yugi’s body emerged from the flames, he understood why it was so difficult to identify his friend. Whether because of the heat of the fire itself, his face was deformed, one eye drooping from its socket as his skin melted away, his usual smile locked in a permanent half-frown. 

 

“Kaiba!” This misshapen Yugi cried out. “Help me,” he begged, reaching out for him, but Kaiba jumped back. He watched with horror as the flesh from his fingers to his shoulder began to dangle from his exposed bones. 

 

“Kaiba, please!” Yugi staggered towards him, his legs disintegrating under the heat. His voice sounded distorted, darker and slower, but still carrying innocent confusion. 

 

Kaiba clenched his teeth. There was no way this was happening. Then, Madoka’s shadowy body appeared behind her husband, only her blazing amber eyes visible, glaring at him. 

 

“You’re the reason he’s burning.” 

 

Yugi finally grabbed hold of him. Kaiba tried to recoil again, but Yugi’s grip was tight. So tight that when the heat evaporated all his ligaments, his wrist bone cracked and was left clutching Kaiba’s shirt. Breathing heavily, Kaiba remained still, shaking in terror. 

 

“Madoka’s right,” Yugi admitted mournfully. “You are the reason I’m burning.” He looked up, his expression now as filled with disdain as Madoka’s. He lunged at Kaiba, pushing him back into the fire. 

“No!” Kaiba shouted as the flares absorbed him. A great burning erupted through his body and he screamed. His last vision was him looking to the sky for salvation only to see the Pharaoh standing over him, untouched by the fire, digging his heel into Kaiba’s chest. 

 

He gasped, his eyes bursting open, as he sprung from his slumber. His skin was clammy, covered in a cold sweat that must’ve made its way into his nightmare. His chest heaved, each breath a sharp inhale followed by a shallow exhale. He struggled but finally caught his breath with a few chokes. Placing a hand over his heart, he felt it beating wildly. Slowly getting up, he stumbled to his dresser where he kept his heart medications. His trembling hand opened the container and placed the pills in his mouth. His attention turned to Yugi’s present on the shelf. Though his curiosity was dying to know what was inside, he was too afraid to open it, to see what Yugi could have possibly needed to die for. 

 

Of all the days to have this dream, Kaiba wondered if it was meant to be an omen. Today was the 49th day after Yugi’s death, the day of his memorial. For a fleeting moment, he thought it best to cancel his plans. No, he retorted. He had been working all day and night for this. He wouldn’t be thwarted by some obnoxious fantasy. 

 

It was time to prepare. He accessed his closet through a fingerprint panel. After it scanned his finger, the doors to the cylindrical wardrobe open. Kaiba waved his fingers, musing through the digital outlines of his outfits projected by his holographic technology. He finally found the one he wanted. The outfit was similar to his Battle City attire but revamped. His coat contained an intricate panel of blue and purples wires that glowed all throughout the outfit. His boots, instead of being held up by those outdated belts, were secured by gleaming blue rings. It was perfect. It nodded to the old while looking forward to the future. 

 

Finally, Kaiba headed to the lab at KaibaCorp where his secret project was being contained. A new, AI system that was stronger, faster, more intelligent than any system created before. It was called Aina, Artificial Intelligence Navigation Assembly. She could calculate over a quadrillion problems in 10 seconds or access any database in the entire world. She could build her own likeness if commanded to do so. More surprising, she fit in a 1” by 1” by 1” cube. Today, she would show the world what she could do. He plucked her from the shelf and made his way out, smirking. 

 

*************************************************************************************************************

 

Anzu walked along a path in the graveyard, shuffling stones with her feet as she awaited the rest of the group. It was almost peaceful in a way to Anzu with the pristinely kept gravestones surrounded by lovely flowers. A small stream flowed at the back of the property, the sound of the running water mixing with the birds’ songs. It was hard to believe something so sorrowful was happening on this gorgeous sunny day. It was the kind of day Yugi would have loved. 

 

She finally arrived at his gravesite and placed a hand on the smooth, polished stone. She stroked it the same way she used to stroke his hair on hot summer days, where they’d lay under the zelkova trees in Domino Park. She remembered the way he, laying on her lap, would lean into her touch. She should’ve known then how he felt, but either she willfully ignored it or couldn’t bear to know. Sometimes, though she would never admit it, it made her angry. Yugi was her best friend, why couldn’t he just keep his feelings to himself? Keep things the way they were? The day Yugi told her he loved her, there was no going back. And, as everyone expected of her, she had to be there to pick up the pieces too. 

 

But you didn’t have to do that. Anzu reminded herself, holding back tears as the sting of the realization hit her, you didn’t have to do that. Flashes of the memory flooded her mind. The gleam of adoration in his eyes, the brush of his fingertips against her skin, his lips crushed against hers, awkward but tender, her underwear sliding down her thighs. 

 

“Anzu!” Jounouchi called out as he briskly walked toward her, leaving the rest of the group behind. He always had bad timing. 

 

“Hey,” she replied quietly, still lost in thought. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Jounouchi asked, his brows furrowing. 

 

“It’s just…all this,” she half-lied. It was a funeral, after all, she had plenty to be mopey about. 

 

“Yeah, I know it’s hard, but this is the last step,” he encouraged. Are you going to the memorial in town?” 

 

“Yeah, of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She beamed. 

 

“Ah, Anzu,” Madoka greeted. “How nice of you to come.” 

 

There was always something off-putting about Madoka’s voice though she was a sweet woman. Was this just part of Anzu’s guilt? She gave herself an imaginary slap on the wrist, reminding herself not to take out her feelings on other people. 

 

“Madoka, it’s nice to--” 

 

Madoka cut her off, smiling. “Well, yes, let’s get on with the ceremony shall we?” 

 

As Madoka walked past her, she felt a slight bump, too soft to be on purpose but too hard to be an accident. Anzu just couldn’t figure Madoka out. She looked around, hoping someone was seeing the same thing. 

 

Jounouchi placed a hand on her shoulder. “She’s just nervous,” he rationalized, easing her worries. Still, why did it feel like ice was radiating from her? She decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

 

Anzu introduced herself to Madoka’s two children, Setsuya and Momo. They seemed excited to meet her, telling them all about Yugi’s stories of her. Thankfully, they were all from better times. She let out a nervous laugh. She thought long and hard about Momo’s name, wondering if Yugi meant to name her ‘peach’ when Anzu’s own name meant ‘apricot’. After all, Setsuya combined Kaiba and Jounouchi’s first names so it wasn’t so far fetched to think he’d name his daughter after her. But why? After everything that happened between them, why would he do that? Because he was Yugi. That’s why, she remembered. Maybe, Yugi had forgiven her after all. 

 

That only made Anzu feel worse. If Yugi had found the heart to forgive her, why couldn’t she find the time to see him? Sure, there were performances and shows, but she had plenty of breaks she could have visited him on. She had the money too. There was no excuse to not visit him other than her own cowardice. She squinted as tears came to her eyes. 

 

Madoka sang a Buddhist prayer for her husband, bowing toward his grave, before saying a few words to commemorate him. 

 

“Today, we are gathered here to remember Yugi, a loving husband and a dear friend to all. Yugi made our lives brighter every day with his smile...his encouraging…” Her voice began to fade as small sobs rose from her throat. Soon, she broke down, leaning into Jounouchi for support. He rubbed her back, continuing to tell her “it would be okay. It was okay.” But she wept inconsolably, leaving him to pick up her speech. 

 

“Yugi made our lives brighter every day with his smile and his kind words,” he began, meeting each one of their eyes. “Yugi was the kind of person you could depend on, who would be there no matter what. Yugi was friends with all kinds of shady people, but when push came to shove, Yugi was right there to help. So today, we remember our friend, our loved one, Yugi Motou, who showed us what true friendship was all about.” 

 

Mai, Anzu, and Honda nodded as Mai replied with a “that’s right!” Now, Anzu regretted being suspicious of Madoka. The poor woman just lost her husband, of course, she wouldn’t be acting completely normal. Everyone grieves in their own way. Just as she thought that, her mind turned to Kaiba and when you speak of the devil, he tends to come knocking on your door. 

 

Just then, a blimp with the initials KC flew overhead, leaving the group in its massive shadow. Flyers came cascading down from the aircraft, leaving a hundred or so on the ground below. Damn Kaiba, Anzu thought, leaving this paper all over the graveyard. She fetched the flyers from where she could, stopping to read one aloud. 

 

“Come mourn the death of the legendary Yugi Mutou in Domino Square at 2 pm today. We cry out for the past, but face towards the future.” She remarked, “what the heck is that supposed to mean?” 

 

Mai shrugged. “A metaphor, I guess? I don’t know. What do I look like a poet?” 

 

Anzu kept picking up flyers off the ground. “Madoka, I am so sorry about thi—“

 

“It’s fine,” Madoka replied in monotone. 

 

“Does this mean Kaiba took over the whole ceremony? Madoka, you don’t have to go to something that creep is takin’ over.” 

 

“We’re going,” she stated with no room for argument. 

 

Jounouchi opened his mouth, but one stern look from her shut him up. Anzu felt for her, she really did, but she couldn’t help thinking Madoka was being pushy. How much leeway should a widow get in these times? Probably more than Anzu was giving, she thought. Anzu was usually more forgiving than this, she wondered why she was being so selfish now. 

 

She looked to the sky where the blimp had once covered the radiant sun. Oh, Kaiba, she wondered, what are you planning? 

 

*************************************************************************************************************

 

The crowd in Domino Square spread for miles as it seemed everyone in town gathered to witness Kaiba’s event. What an unfitting name for something that was supposed to be Yugi’s day. Still, Anzu had no idea what to expect so maybe, just maybe, this would be a touching tribute to Yugi after all. Knowing Kaiba, though, she had her doubts. Those doubts doubled as the wind picked up around them and a chopping noise approached from above. 

 

“Why is he flying so close?” Anzu yelled over the roar of the helicopter’s propellers. “He could get someone killed.” 

 

“Because it’s Kaiba,” Jounouchi reasoned. “That bastard doesn’t care.” 

 

Madoka didn’t even flinch, standing perfectly still as her hair swept around her face. Anzu noticed her gaze fixated on aircraft, unblinking even. It only made her more scared of her. 

 

She peaked up past her forearm, getting a glimpse of Seto Kaiba smirking as he leaped from the helicopter. She huffed, half-hoping it hurt yet half-concerned. He was too old to be pulling stunts like that even if landed without a scratch. When Kaiba tossed his head, flipping his wind-blown hair back to perfection with a sly grin, she lost all sympathy and fully hoped a good back pain tomorrow would teach him a lesson. He looked almost happy though, his lips now parted, showing off his dazzling white teeth as he smirked. For a moment, she envisioned Kaiba as a teenager again, donned in his Battle City coat, his eyes gleaming with his passion for dueling. It was one of the only times he didn’t look like he hated everything. She smiled a little. She wasn’t entirely sure why Kaiba was so callous all the time—she was only partially aware of his bad family life—but watching him act a least a little human warmed her heart. Kaiba didn’t deserve to be the way he was. It was a strange thought she always had about him. It was Kaiba’s own fault for shutting everyone out and forcing himself to wallow in loneliness and he could at least try to open up if he wanted to—her friends had always given him quite a few chances to—but she still felt disappointed when he refused. In some ways, she wanted to save Kaiba from himself because she wanted to save everyone and everything. Her logical side knew Kaiba had to be the one to save himself, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

 

His smirk grew bigger, verging on a smile as the crowd recovered from their shock and began cheering. They chanted his name and the syllables echoed back from the city towers, amplifying the sound. It made 10,000 people sound like 100,000. Kaiba shivered, feeling electric from the crowd’s energy. He didn’t always enjoy large crowds of people, but when they shouted his name he felt like a god.

 

Anzu gaped as she looked on at the crowd. Crossing her arms, she shot Kaiba a disappointed glare, not unlike an angry mother. She should have known Kaiba would take something meant to honor Yugi and turn it into an ego fest for himself. Despite the crowd being packed tight, she pushed through. She was going to give Kaiba a piece of her mind even if he wanted to ignore her. Even if his stupid security tackled her to the floor. Her outrage waned, however, as the crowd bumped and squished into her. All those years of dancing made her bones brittle. Her skin had thinned too. As she struggled through the bodies with each passing blow, she felt the bruises forming and her joints cracking. She almost thought about letting it go, but, for Yugi’s sake, she kept inching towards the stage.

 

The roar of jets passing overheard distracted her for a moment. Then, the fireworks started. No, these were brighter and more saturated than regular fireworks, especially for midday. It must have been some virtual show. Somehow, Kaiba had projected a night sky around the crowd, filling it with splashes of vibrant lights. The streams of color would explode into various Duel Monsters cards from Yugi’s deck. She wanted to keep going, but between the now immovable crowd, the loud noises, and the blinding lights, she couldn’t find the strength to move. The show ended with a column of exploding purple lights rising high into the sky until the Dark Magician erupted to life. He rose his staff, shooting a ball of purple and black light. People screamed as the light came hurtling towards them. Anzu felt hotter as it approached, almost as if she would burn up until the light exploded in front of their eyes. She squinted, the white rays were too bright to handle. Damnit, Kaiba. Someone could’ve been blinded by that. 

 

Anzu heard Jounouchi and Mai call out to her, but she couldn’t make out their exact words. “I’m fine,” she shouted back, hoping it answered their concerns. She continued toward the stage as Kaiba began to speak. 

 

“Welcome all to this glorious event. Today, we are here to remember a legend--someone you all know as the King of Games. Today, we are here, for Yugi Mutou.” 

 

Surprised, Anzu paused again. Maybe, Kaiba meant for this to be about Yugi after all. 

 

“Yugi was taken from us too young. He had much to live for and, ladies and gentlemen, he lived life to its fullest. In honor of him, I’m introducing my newest creation. In fact, you’ve been viewing it all along. I present to you, Project Aina.” 

 

Kaiba gestured to his right and a young Yugi appeared next to him. Anzu gasped. How could he have done that? He looked so real. 

 

“Make no mistake, this isn’t the real Yugi Mutou, though, it appears so. This is my improved holographic system all part of the new AI. Aina is a superpowered computer that can perform millions, and I mean millions, of tasks. You can use her for something as mundane as doing chores or she can solve the world’s most complex math problems in under five seconds. She can project anything you desire: scenery, animals, people, even those who have passed away.”

 

As Kaiba nodded to the hologram, it waved, looking directly at Anzu. Kaiba had gotten everything right to the waves in his hair and the wide, wondering look in his eyes. 

 

That did it. One, Kaiba just wanted to show off his newfangled technology to everyone and, two, he was doing it at Yugi’s expense. It was in bad taste to parade around the likeness of someone who died. Did he even think about how Madoka would feel? He certainly didn’t stop to think about how she would feel. As she looked into the hologram's eyes, old feelings welled up inside her again. The flashes of the tree, the breeze, his fingertips, her skirt. It all whirled like a carousel in her mind over and over again, consuming her to the point that it was difficult to make her way through the crowd. 

 

“I’ll kill him!” Anzu turned around, jarred, to see Jounouchi fast approaching, a fire in his eyes. 

 

“I’ll kill him!” Jounouchi howled again, shoving the audience out of his way. 

 

She could hear his breath rushing through his nostrils as he walked past her. She grabbed onto his arm, knowing full well if Jounouchi made his way up there someone would get hurt. 

 

“Jounouchi, stop,” she pleaded. “It’s not worth it.” 

 

“I don’t care,” he yelled, shoving her arm away. “That bastard isn’t getting away with this.” 

Anzu followed Jounouchi, hoping she could reason with him by the time they reached the stage, but he refused to even look back at her. He was fiercely determined to give Kaiba a piece of his right hook. 

 

“Aina, speak,” Kaiba commanded the hologram. Yugi’s sweet voice replied, “Hello, my name is Yugi Mutou.” 

 

The crowd cheered, yelling Kaiba’s name even louder along with a few “he’s so cool”s and “I wish I could be him”s. 

 

“It’s nice to see you all,” the hologram greeted, bowing. “Kaiba?” 

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Aina?” 

 

“Why did you kill Yugi Mutou?” 

 

A collective gasp erupted through the crowd. Jounouchi and Anzu stopped dead in the tracks. What was going on? Anzu thought. This couldn’t have been part of Kaiba’s act. The crowd began to whisper, gossiping about how it was possible or asking if this was part of the show. Anzu watched as Jounouchi’s muscles tightened. 

 

“He...killed Yugi?” Jounouchi breathed. 

 

“Jou, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding…” Anzu tried to rationalize. 

 

“No, you heard that thing. That thing that’s supposedly so smart. It knows what Kaiba did! That son of a bitch!” Jounouchi ran, knocking people to the ground. Anzu could only try to keep up, begging him to reconsider. She glanced at Kaiba, who was standing speechless on stage. 

 

A bead of sweat ran from down the side of Kaiba’s face, his mouth hanging open. He looked nervously at the crowd, the whispers filling his ears. 

 

“Aina,” he said away from the microphone. “Initiate reboot sequence.” 

 

The hologram twitched for a moment but otherwise refused to follow his command. Impossible, he thought, he had thoroughly tested every kink in the system before today. It was flawless. How could this be? He ordered the machine to shut down, but it ignored him again. 

 

He knew there was only one surefire way to shut this system down. He pulled the microphone in his collar to his lips, “Shut down the power grid to Domino. I don’t care how you do it, but do it fast.” 

Kaiba’s eyes darted among the people. The world was spinning as he became overwhelmed by everything. To make matters worse, the tabloids approached the stage, bombarding him with questions. 

 

“Mr. Kaiba, what do you know about the death of Yugi Mutou?” 

 

“Is it true you killed him to become the new King of Games?” 

 

“Did you kill him out of revenge?” 

 

“Mr. Kaiba, Mr. Kaiba,” they clamored, surrounding him as he walked off stage. He held his hand to his chest as his heart began beating erratically. 

 

He was underwater again, the world slowing down as the sound of silence drowned them out. He stared at the reporters who he could tell were screaming, but he couldn’t respond. He barely even noticed his bodyguards taking charge, pushing people away from him. Not a thought ran through his mind. He just felt empty. The world felt empty. The colors were beginning to drain from around him even in the distant sunset. Just as the city lights would’ve replaced the sun, they all flickered and died out. Kaiba turned to the hologram, the forlorn face of Yugi Mutou glitching before it disappeared completely. He collapsed onto the ground, holding onto his chest. 

 

Anzu looked on, concerned, now rushing to the stage for a different reason--to make sure he was alright. 

 

“Kaiba?” she called out. 

 

Mokuba came rushing from behind the stage. “Seto!” He cried. “Big brother!” 

 

The helicopter swooped back in, leaving Anzu blinded by what felt like blades of wind against her eyes. Her last vision of Kaiba was his limp body being carried away a stretcher.


	5. Chapter 5: Convictions

Anzu walked along the many shops in downtown Domino, many of them displaying the news from a few days ago. An oncoming KaibaCorp truck killed Yugi that night and now many suspected Seto Kaiba was behind it. There was no known reason for the truck to have swerved into the other lane--road conditions were clear and there were no mechanical issues. However, since there was no solid evidence that Kaiba was connected to the incident, no arrest had been made. The citizens of Domino, however, were holding their own trial. As she passed the storefronts filled with magazines and TVs, she heard the onlookers whispering about Seto Kaiba, the murderer, consumed by his revenge. Though she never really cared for him, she couldn’t stand listening to all the made-up lies. Besides, he was still in the hospital and it wasn't fair to condemn someone who couldn’t defend themselves. 

She huffed and walked faster to her dance studio on Cherry Blossom Street. She entered the locker room and quickly began changing into her leotard and en pointe shoes. Today, she was teaching the adult class, mostly a group of older women who were using ballet to get in shape. A group of them greeted her as they left for the dance floor. 

“I’ll be there in a minute!” She called out to them as she tied the ribbons on her shoes. 

One of her other students approached her--Kiyomi Takada. She was a lot younger than the other women--even younger than Anzu. She wondered what she did as a job to be able to come here at 4 pm on a weekday afternoon, but she thought it’d be rude to ask. She was a beautiful woman with long, black hair and large, warm eyes. Her smile was infectious even now as she greeted Anzu, alone, as she always tended to do. From what Anzu could see, she didn’t have many other friends in the group like the other women. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Mazaki,” Kiyomi chimed. 

Anzu giggled. “I told you, Kiyomi, you can call me Anzu.” 

“It just wouldn’t feel right, knowing you’re my teacher and all.” 

Though Kiyomi was younger, she was still 30 yet she talked like a high school girl with her high pitched voice. 

“I’m telling you, it’s alright, Kiyomi. We’re all friends here,” she replied, offering a sincere grin as she led her out to the dance floor. “Ready for today’s lesson?” 

“Oh, yes! I can’t wait!” She squealed, rocking from side to side. Her little girl act could be abrasive, but Anzu remained polite. 

Out on the floor, Anzu welcomed the group, especially the few newcomers that day. Their first lesson would be a difficult one--pirouettes. Though it may look like a simple spin, it requires a lot of leg work to maintain form. She demonstrated the technique, balancing on the point of her right toe, tensing the muscles of her calves while staying light above her core. She began to spin with her left leg touching the knee of her supporting leg then finished with one leg stretched behind the other. The students applauded, commenting it was no surprise for an experienced dancer like herself. 

“Please, please,” Anzu deflected, shying away from their remarks. “Alright, now before we learn today, we’ll need to warm up. Let’s start with stretches then 3 reps of 10 relevés.” 

As they practiced, Anzu kept her smile on her face, but inside she was aching. All the years of dance--and the stress of being so thin--weakened her bones. She could sometimes hear them crackling as she switched positions or landed too hard on the floor. Her feet took the worst of the beating and, after the lesson ended, she took them off, revealing sets of bruises old and new. Her toes were curled and swollen from years of stuffing them into en pointe shoes. She tried massaging the pain, but touching them only made it worse. What’s more, she had a ten-minute walk to the train station. She looked up to the mirror, facing her small, dainty frame that seemed worn away by time. Her hair was starting to thin as well and sometimes she found clumps in her shower or her hairbrush. All dreams, she supposed, came at a cost though. 

She waved goodbye to her students, Kiyomi being last as always. She offered to help Anzu clean the studio, but she declined. Not only did she enjoy the alone time, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with Kiyomi for an hour or two. Eventually, she too departed, leaving Anzu to mop the floor. She changed into her favorite cleaning outfit, a pair of comfortable pants, a shirt from an old dance competition, and a cute apron she had bought at the 100-yen store embroidered with cartoon kitten faces. Tying a bandana around her hair, she grabbed the mop and got to work. She considered this her post-workout cooldown and enjoyed releasing some of her pent of feelings by cleaning. 

To control her environment, to be able to have a direct effect on how her studio looked gave her a sense of power. She never really had a strong desire to control things until her time in the New York Dance Academy. At first, she felt like a failure at every weigh-in. All the girls were much slimmer than her by comparison. She was constantly teased about her weight especially because as an Asian girl they expected her to be tiny. Anzu, as her mother would say, was blessed with a curvy build that may have attracted the boys, but it did her no good in the dance world. Even her instructors made snide remarks, questioning her desire to even be there if she was going to be so “fat”. So Anzu proved them wrong. She dropped from 120 to 110 in one week and was commended for her discipline and willingness to excel. It all went downhill from there. Before she knew it, she was 100 and then 95. At the height of her career, she weighed just 90 lbs at 5’ 4”. At the threat of being hospitalized, she was forced to gain weight again, but her instructors only criticized when she spiraled back to 100 lbs. From then on, it was a cycle of gaining and losing, gaining and losing to the point where Anzu was almost relieved when she retired five years ago from dance. What she didn’t realize is the cycle didn’t stop with her retirement. 

Anzu vowed to never step on a scale again, but the urge now overcame her. She remembered someone brought a scale for the locker room so the girls could revel in how much progress they’ve made. Gingerly, she placed one foot on it then the other. The scale’s monitor flashed, a series of straight lines dancing along the screen. She waited anxiously for her number to appear. As the numbers took shape on the scale, her heart dropped. How could this be? She thought. She knew she hadn’t been eating much since Yugi died, but she didn’t realize how little. 

88 lbs. 

Anzu Mazaki only weighed 88 lbs. 

“Hello?” a voice called out into the studio. Damnit, she thought she locked the door. She jumped from the scale and went to see who was intruding. 

“Mokuba?” She questioned. “Coming for...dance lessons?” 

“‘Fraid not, Anzu. I’ve got something more important. I need to talk to you right away.” 

“Me? Why?” 

“It’s about Kaiba,” he explained, though that revealed nothing to her. “I’ll tell you more when we get back to my house. Mai and Jounouchi are already there.” 

*************************************************************************************************************

“How did you even find me?” Anzu asked, taking a seat across from Mai and Jounouchi at Mokuba’s kitchen table. 

He shot her a cheeky smile. “KaibaCorp has hears and eyes all over the city.” 

She looked around the kitchen for a moment. It isn’t what she expected, Mokuba coming from such a wealthy background. It looked homey with a serene blue painted across the walls and a little curtain fringe framing the window over the sink. She thought he’d live somewhere more grand, like a renovated castle or a modern mansion. Instead, he lived in a modest two-story Western-style house just outside the city limits. 

“So,” Jou interrupted, parting with his cup of coffee, “why did ya bring us here anyways?” 

“Ah,” Mokuba began. He rested his chin on his clasped hands, eyeing each of them before he spoke. “It’s about Seto. He needs your help.”

He scoffed. “I thought about as much. C’mon Mai, we’re leaving.”   
“Uh-huh,” she shook her head. “I want to hear what he has to say,” she insisted. 

“What’s there to say? His brother murdered Yugi!” 

“If you wholeheartedly believed that,” Mokuba interjected. “Then why come?” 

He rolled his eyes. “To hear an apology? For you to confess that you knew something? I don’t know. Anything but him needing our help. We’ve helped his sorry ass plenty of times. But not this time.” 

“Jounouchi,” he pleaded. “Why would he have killed Yugi? He was his friend too.” 

“Yeah, some friend he’s been, trynna kill us before. Maybe he finally snapped and couldn’t handle being second best anymore.” 

“But, Jou, Yugi wasn’t even his real rival. That was all Atem. Kaiba knew the difference between them so why would killing Yugi make him number one?” 

Jounouchi growled, curling up his fists. “Goddamnit, Mokuba, I don’t know what your deranged brother thinks, but all I know is I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like this and unless I have solid proof he didn’t, I’m still calling your brother a murderer.” 

“Jounouchi,” Anzu scolded. “We don’t have solid proof that Kaiba did murder Yugi, just a bunch of hearsay and gossip. That’s nothing to convict him on.” 

“Oh, and why are you sticking up for him, Anzu?” he retorted. 

“Because he looked like he was in pain at Yugi’s funeral. He was really mourning him, Jou. He misses him like we all do.” 

Jounouchi went silent for a moment before answering, “maybe it’s from guilt.” 

“Maybe, Jou, but I feel guilty too and I didn’t kill him.” 

“That’s different. You need to let that go, Anzu, everyone else already has.” 

That answer annoyed her. Just let it go. How could she let it go when Yugi had been so hurt? Besides, maybe it didn’t concern him, but she had no idea how Yugi felt. 

“Well, maybe Kaiba has some guilt he needs to let go of too.

Mai turned to Mokuba, asking him what he thought of the whole affair. 

“It’s bullshit,” he slammed his fist against the table. “They don’t even have any proof.” 

Anzu was taken aback. She was used to Mokuba the little brother who was always careful to keep his language somewhat suitable around his brother. His anger surprised her for a moment too, but she understood it. She’d be livid if someone accused her loved one’s of murder, especially without any proof. Hell, she barely liked Kaiba and she was still frustrated by Jounouchi’s complete lack of understanding. 

“Mokuba’s right,” Mai said. “There is no proof.” 

Jounouchi shot her glare, but she ignored him. “However, we also don’t know if he did it, but I do know Kaiba’s been a bad seed in the past.” 

“He’s done some good, too,” she argued. She couldn’t believe she was taking his side, but it was the right thing to do in this situation. “Jounouchi, Mai, remember how he saved me from that crane back in Battle City? Or all the times he helped Yugi defeat evil in the past? Kaiba maybe a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.” 

“Oh, well maybe you’re forgetting the time he built a theme park to kill us. Huh, Anzu? Or how he blew up an island and we almost died?” 

Anzu couldn’t argue with him there. Yes, Kaiba had his bad moments. Okay, he had really bad moments, but something always told her that underneath his abrasive exterior was someone good. Maybe he wasn’t the most caring, fuzzy guy, but he had his way of showing he cared. Or at least, showing that he didn’t want you completely dead. Which was sweet. In his own way. Alright, so Anzu was having trouble convincing herself of Kaiba’s morality, but she refused to convict him of murder without proof. She also refused to believe those eyes of his weren’t holding genuine loss. Kaiba had much to be guilty about, but so did she despite Jounouchi’s snide remarks. No one else knew that sickening feeling of looking at Yugi’s grave and not knowing what he thought of you. If he died thinking you were a monster. 

“Of course I remember, Jounouchi. I was there too. But it doesn’t change the fact that there’s still no proof. I thought you were better than to accuse someone without it.” She stared long and hard into Jounouchi’s eyes, searching for a sign that she had talked some sense into him. Instead, she was met by furrowed brows and an intense glare. 

“And I thought you were better than to turn your back on a friend.” 

With that, Jounouchi got up from the table. Not looking back, he told Mai he’d be at the train station when she was ready. 

Mai sighed. “Look, Anzu, it’s not that I think Kaiba definitely did it, but...he’s not a good guy. Maybe, he’s just getting what he deserves.”  
Mokuba, fuming, clenched his fists. “My brother doesn’t deserve this. Not after everything we’ve been through.” 

“Mokuba, I think you need to take a good, hard look at your brother and see him for what he is,” Mai stated, a hint of remorse in her words. 

“I know who my brother is. And he’s not a murderer.” 

Mai gave Anzu one last pleading look, shrugging, but she could see it was in vain. “Well, good luck you two.” 

As she left, she patted Anzu on the back. Of all people, she expected Mai to be more rational about the situation. Even if Kaiba deserved some punishment, it should be for the things he’d done not for the things he hadn’t. Anzu was too scared to be angry, however. If this is what the people who knew him thought, what was the rest of the city thinking? Some of them would probably agree with Jounouchi, some with Mai. Some may even not care and just be itching for a spectacle because what would make Yugi’s death more astonishing than a murder by a powerful, CEO. What if, she swallowed, she was defending Kaiba for nothing though? She sincerely hoped everyone would understand why she had to. Her strong sense of justice wouldn’t allow her to call someone guilty unless proven so. 

Anzu let out a deep breath. “Mokuba, for both our sake’s, I hope he didn’t do it.” 

“He didn’t, Anzu, I swear. He would never want to hurt Yugi now.” Mokuba pondered for a moment, “but since you’re the only one who believes me, I need your help.” 

As Anzu listened, her heart sank. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know if Mokuba’s plan would work. Still, they had to try something or Kaiba could find himself scandalized by the public. 

*************************************************************************************************************

A week later, Anzu waited underneath a barrage of hot, blinding stage lights. Members of the crew hurried across the stage, shouting film jargon at each other. She coughed as a cloud of powder flew from a make-up artist’s brush. People were still applying and blotting her lipstick as the countdown started. 

She turned warily to Mokuba who was watching it all unfold from backstage. He gave her a simple thumbs-up and an encouraging smile. She still felt queasy. She’d never been on TV before, nonetheless on national news in front of all of Japan. If she made one mistake, it could mean the end of Kaiba’s career and his reputation. This was a risky move already. 

3...2...1…  
Her eyes scanned the room, eagerly searching for the camera she was supposed to be looking into until the cameraman pointed. She adjusted herself accordingly. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and readied herself to speak. A little light on the camera blinked red over and over again, indicating that right now millions of Japanese were watching her. Even more might see this clip, what if news station across the globe aired this later? What if all that could be shown was Anzu, lips apart, staring blankly into the camera as Mokuba’s whole prepared speech escaped her memory? 

She spent day and night memorizing that speech. How could she forget it now? Was it the light? She felt herself getting dizzy. 

“G-good evening, Japan,” she stuttered, trying to recall the paper he had typed the speech on. “This is Anzu Mazaki. I’ve known Mr. Kaiba for...awhile now and I’d like to speak--” 

What was the next line? The lights burned against her skin. Beads of sweat formed at her forehead. She breathed heavier now as her eyes darted across the room. The crew stared back at her, wondering what was going wrong. Damnit, if she messed this up it was over. 

“I’d like to speak about the allegations--the recent allegations--against him. Mr. Kaiba, that is, the one being accused.” 

She watched one of the backstage members throw his face into his palm. She was botching the whole operation. Sneaking a glance at Mokuba, she saw not the face of a man, but the face of a defeated boy, prepared to cry. She tried to relax her body and continue. 

She had to get through this. “Though Mr. Mutou and Mr. Kaiba weren’t always on the best of terms, Mr. Kaiba would never do commit these atrocious acts. Mr. Mutou’s death was an accident that unfortunately occurred in relation to a KaibaCorp vehicle.” 

Anzu took a deep breath, she was starting to remember again. Still, she was stiff. The more rigid her body became, the more she forgot. It was like her tightened muscles were restricting her thoughts. 

“Mr. Kaiba, though known for his serious demeanor….” 

She forgot again. This time, the director was done. He waved his hand across his neck, indicating to cut the cameras and end the broadcast. Anzu had to think fast.

“Kaiba didn’t kill Yugi.” 

Everyone stopped, waiting. 

“Kaiba wouldn’t kill Yugi. Not even if it meant taking his place as King of Games. Because that wouldn’t mean anything to Kaiba.” 

The director halted his last order, keeping to cameras rolling. 

“Kaiba took a lot of pride in earning his wins. He has too much honor to kill Yugi. Besides,” 

She was off-script, but she didn’t care. The words were flowing easily now. She was relaxed, feeling the emotions behind her words. 

“Besides, Yugi was his friend. He may never admit that openly, but he was. Kaiba’s mourning the loss of someone just as we all are. And as much as I may have never said this...Kaiba’s my friend too. And I know he’s too good to have done something like this.” 

“Please, everyone,” she pleaded, “this was all an accident. Let’s not have another accident by accusing an innocent person of something horrible.” 

The director gestured cut for the cameras. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Everyone except Mokuba, who frantically came up to her. 

“Anzu, what was that? I told you to stick to the script for a reason!” he panicked, clutching his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Mokuba, I freaked out! I wasn’t sure what to do.” 

“Ugh. You know what, we’re just gonna have to hope for the best.” Mokuba thought for a moment. “Hey, would you want to see what my brother thought of it?” 

“Like visit him in the hospital?” She asked, puzzled. 

“Yeah, you know, it was nice of you to say he’s your friend. I think he’d appreciate one right about now.” 

“Oh, Mokuba, I don’t know. I mean I don’t think your brother has a very high opinion of me.” 

“Well,” Mokuba smiled, “let’s see if anything’s changed.” 

She stood there for a moment, contemplating her decision. “Alright, but I really don’t think--”

“Awesome! Come on, let’s get in the limo.” 

The car ride to the hospital was met by the typical rush hour traffic. She never understood why it was called rush hour when it always lasted about two or three. She supposed it was just a phrase passed down from another time period. It was difficult to think over the cacophony of horns and shouting, but when she could, she prepared for a scathing review of her performance from Kaiba. She wasn’t even sure why she agreed to come with Mokuba. After all, she anticipated he’d be critical no matter how much she helped him. She was curious as to how he was doing though. Having a heart attack must have taken a toll on him. Maybe Mokuba was right. Maybe she was the friendly face he needed right now. 

They entered the KaibaCorp hospital. It was huge compared to any other hospital she had been to. It almost looked like an airport with high vaulted ceilings and the vast space of the entrance room. Mokuba approached the desk, explained he was there to see his brother, and they were quickly escorted by a team of hospital security upstairs. 

“Hey, bro, look who I brought over.”

They weren’t met with Kaiba’s smiling, or frowning face. Instead, all they could see was an empty bed, sheets torn off and left crumpled at the edge of the mattress. He was gone.


	6. Chapter 6: Smile

“I can’t believe he would do this,” Mokuba huffed, speaking of his brother’s escape from the hospital. According to a few nurses, they assumed Kaiba was taking a regulated walk around the cardiac wing and didn’t notice him leave the area. Suspiciously, no one saw him leave the hospital either, but cameras indeed proved he exited through the main doors. Mokuba seemed to guess exactly where he was. 

“I mean going back to the office at a time like this? What was he thinking?” 

The trip to the KaibaCorp office was filled with Mokuba’s complaints to which Anzu said nothing. Leaving a hospital room because he felt like it? That sounded exactly like Kaiba. She snickered, imaging Kaiba walking down the hallways with a monitor, holding the gap in the back of his gown to keep his backside from being exposed. Imaging him in such an unserious manner was the only way she could handle going to see him now. After all, it would be awkward, showing up unannounced to his office as Mokuba berated him. Come to think of it, she wondered why she didn’t leave after he disappeared from the hospital. 

Mokuba stormed up to Kaiba’s office. She could hardly keep up with him. He banged on the door. 

“Seto, open up! I know you’re in there,” he bellowed. 

There was no response, except for the clacking of keys that let Mokuba know he was definitely in there and definitely not willing to talk. 

“Seto, damnit, you can’t just do whatever you feel like.” 

“Yes, I can, I’m a CEO,” Kaiba stated, his hands unwavering from the keyboard. 

“That’s a terrible excuse. Open up.” 

After a few moments of silence, Kaiba opened the door. He peered first in annoyance at Mokuba and then with cold, curious eyes at Anzu. She felt them scanning her, determining why she was even in his presence. To that, she didn’t have a great answer. 

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” was all she could muster. 

Without acknowledging her, he turned back to Mokuba. “If I let you in, will you stop bothering me?” 

“Oh no,” Mokuba barged his way in with Anzu following sheepishly behind him. “What were you thinking? You just had a heart attack!” 

“That was a week ago Mokuba, I was fine a few hours after they sent me there. Their little waiting time wasn’t in my schedule,” he asserted. 

Mokuba scoffed. “Unbelievable. I bet you didn’t even see the broadcast.” 

“I did,” he looked Anzu and gave a quick “thank you” before returning to his work. 

“Oh.” She was surprised. This was maybe the third time in her life she heard Kaiba say thank you and it was all in the past month. “You’re welcome.” 

“Now, do me a favor and stop making this helping-me-thing a habit of yours. I could’ve handled this all fine on my own.” 

Of course, she thought, he couldn’t leave it at thank you. He just had to slip some snide comment in. That was Kaiba. To think this was the guy she was defending on national TV. He’s lucky anyone would. 

“Oh, Kaiba. Stop. You’re being too grateful,” she replied sarcastically, but he was in no mood to play around with her. 

“You know what, Kaiba?” She placed her hands on her hips. “No, you don’t get to treat me like this. I stuck up for you in front of millions of people today. The least I should be able to get is a simple thank you without all the derogatory remarks.” 

“Maybe you need to get your hearing checked, Mazaki, because I did thank you. As for the ‘derogatory remarks’, well, that’s just one of the many rewards of dealing with me. Ask Mokuba, he’s been part of the club for much longer than you have. He even as a membership card,” he retorted.

Mokuba rolled his eyes, but Anzu refused to give up. “Oh no, Kaiba, I’m not accepting that attitude. I don’t care if you’re Seto Kaiba or not, I just helped you. It’s called being a friend, Kaiba. Do you know what that means?” 

He interjected. “Oh great, I get to run around with the pack and wear dorky outfits like you losers.” 

She was fuming now. “No, Kaiba, it means I helped you out because I care. I didn’t want to see you get accused of something you didn’t do especially something a heinous as murder. I didn’t want to see Mokuba be the only one standing by your side. You may think you could’ve handled this alone, but you needed someone to sell the public on your reputation and despite all the shitty things you’ve done to us, I went to bat for you. So I want to hear a sincere, nonsarcastic thank you.” 

He thought for a moment or maybe ignored her. She couldn’t quite tell. 

“Thank you,” he said heavily, looking into her eyes. 

She felt flushed. She didn’t expect him to actually say it and not in that low, breathy tone. Their eyes met and she could tell from the gleam in them that he was sincere. She felt warmth filling her chest. 

“You’re welcome,” she said again, awaiting another snarky response. 

There was none. Instead, he went back to typing away on his computer. It seemed whatever part of what she said actually got through to him. She sighed in relief. 

“I’ll get going now.” She turned, leaving the door half-open, “And Kaiba?” 

He perked up. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said, smiling as she left. 

“She really did stick her neck out for you, bro,” Mokuba urged, sitting himself up on Kaiba’s desk like he used to do as a little kid. 

“Neither of you quite realize what you’ve really done though.” 

Mokuba tilted his head, confused as Kaiba typed his name into his web browser's search bar. He pulled up a few of the top results: 

“A Lover’s Plea: A Girl Begs for Japan’s Forgiveness.” 

“Mysterious Girl Makes a Case for Seto Kaiba: Something More Going On?” 

“Seto Kaiba’s Lover Defends Him: He’s Not a Murderer!” 

“Oh my God,” Mokuba gaped. “She’s gonna flip when she finds out.” 

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen soon,” he said, closing his laptop and putting it in his briefcase. 

“It seems like Anzu is all anyone wants to talk about now,” Mokuba said as he scanned through the articles. “They barely mention you and, if they do, they’re pretty favorable.” 

A realization struck Kaiba and he smirked. It was crazy, but it could just work. 

“Mokuba, you’re brilliant.”   
Before Mokuba could reply, Kaiba ruffled his little brother’s hair before leaving the office with a plan to save his reputation in mind. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Kaiba hurried down the streets of Domino to the address his computer system had given him. He stood in front of the building for a moment, wondering if she would still be there. If all the data he analyzed was correct, she should be. He quickly checked his watch. 4:45. Just about the time her class would’ve ended and everyone would’ve left. He smirked to himself. Perfect. 

The dance studio was a lot larger on the inside with a high ceiling and a few large window panes that attempted to illuminate the room. Without the overhead lights, though, it still felt dark, empty and dark. It was almost unsettling. As he entered, he looked around for any sign of her. Damnit, he thought, gritting his teeth. His prediction was off. It looked like she had left for the day until he heard a metal locker closing in the other room. Anzu appeared, tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear as she absent-mindedly scanned the floor. She raised her head, her eyes widening as she let out a small gasp. With the way her eyes were gleaming in alarm, he noticed for the first time their soft, blue color unlike his hard, icy glare. It surprised him almost as much as he surprised her. 

“God, Kaiba, you scared me,” she breathed, holding her chest. 

Too lost in her gaze, he forgot to reply. She squinted, searching for a reason behind the intent yet distracted look in his eyes but found none. She wondered if he was okay. 

As soon as he noticed this, he snapped back to his cool, composed self. Clearing his throat, he answered her unspoken question, “I wanted to properly thank you for helping me a few days ago.” 

She raised an eyebrow, prompting, “Oh? And how may you be doing that?” 

“I may be,” he began, shrugging with his hands still in his pockets, “offering to take you out for dinner.” 

She tilted her head, examining him with great curiosity. “Is that so?” 

“It is so,” he copied the half-mocking tone in her voice. 

“And if I say no?” she teased. 

His lip curled, “then I’ll have a wonderful dinner all by myself with a nice vintage bottle of pinot noir. 1957--an excellent year.” 

“Drinking by yourself?” she sounded even more amused. “That would be sad. I better help you then.” 

“If you must, Mazaki.” 

She smiled brightly. As much as Kaiba could be an ass, he was fun to banter with. She decided a dinner with him wouldn’t be the worst idea. 

“But wait,” she remembered, “what about all the headlines? Maybe we should wait until things cool off.” 

“Don’t worry, Mazaki. I’ve got that all figured out. You don’t think I’d take that into account before planning this?” 

She deliberated for a moment before finally agreeing to go. Perfect. He thought. The first part of tonight’s plan was complete. The second part would be easy then. 

Kaiba took her to a little Italian restaurant off the main roads of Domino Square. L’Italia--nestled between some eclectic clothing and beauty stores. The string lights on the patio and the faint glow of the inside lights gave the place a cozy feel. The polished brick exterior was the only anomaly in the otherwise rustic vibe. It seemed like a place one discovers rather than searches out.

Anzu felt immediately out of place in her regular, plain clothes, but Kaiba didn’t seem to care. Besides, the place was empty, she assumed because Kaiba wanted it that way. 

Meanwhile, Kaiba was perfectly in place with his crisp, white suit and baby blue tie that gave him a dashing, angular physique. She wondered, for a brief moment, if it was his suit or his actually body that gave that impression. Blushing, she shook the thought of Kaiba’s bare frame from her mind. 

“Are you alright, Mazaki?” he asked, reviewing the flush of pink across her cheeks. 

“I’m fine!” she insisted, too loudly. “I’m fine.” 

“Shall we then?” He asked, holding the door open for her. 

The inside of the restaurant was even more intimate on the inside. The seating and bar were made up of a solid, dark wood that glistening red under the soft, low lights. It was small, but had plenty of spaces where two people could forget they weren’t the only ones there. Strange, Anzu thought, Kaiba taking to her to a place like this. It was certainly fancy, though. She forced herself to be more grateful. 

The waiter greeted and seated them near the window towards the street. She thought Kaiba would object with the paparazzi and all, but he seemed not the least bit concerned. If Kaiba, the one super careful with his reputation, wasn’t worried, that was a good enough reason for her not to be worried. The waiter poured some glasses of water and offered them a few minutes with the menu. Anzu was about to thank him before Kaiba interjected. 

“I’ll take two orders of foie gras and a bottle of your 1957 pinot noir,” he ordered tersely. The waiter bowed and went to fulfill his request. 

“Um, excuse me? Don’t I get to pick what I want to eat? What is this the 50s?” 

“I didn’t think you’d know what was good so I saved you the trouble of being disappointed,” he stated matter of factly, taking a long sip from his glass. 

The truth was, Anzu was less angry with the principal of him ordering and more worried about the food itself. She’d never eaten something as fattening as foie gras, at least not in a long time, and the thought the fatty juices sliding down her throat was almost enough to make her hurl. She knew she had to at least make a better effort to eat more high calorie foods, though, or else she’d never gain weight. Even if it made her squeamish. 

“Next time, I’ll just ask you if it’s good,” she muttered, looking out the window. 

As she did, she smiled at the reflection of her and Kaiba sitting across the table face to face. Who would’ve ever imaged it? From the outside world, they must have looked like two lovers sharing a quiet meal together. In reality, just the idea of them being friends was crazy enough. Gosh, to imagine the trouble of dating Seto Kaiba. Whoever could do that deserved a medal. 

“So, how are you holding up?” he asked, the words slipping awkwardly from his tongue. 

She lifted her head. “Hm? Oh, I’m doing alright.” 

“No, not the polite answer,” his eyes narrowed. “I mean the real answer.” 

Surprised, she searched for the right words to express herself without giving away too much. “I just...I just wish he wasn’t gone,” her eyes dropped to the table as her words trailed off. 

“I know,” he replied, low and somber. This subject was much too depressing, he didn’t know why he picked it. 

“How are you doing? The real answer, not the polite one,” though she supposed she didn’t have to specify with him. 

Kaiba contemplated. How was he doing? Physically, he was beat from his stay in the hospital though he wouldn’t dare admit it to anyone. Emotionally, well, he had never been one to examine his emotions. 

“Well, being blamed for his death doesn’t make things any easier,” he admitted.

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” she responded wistfully. “I can’t even imagine. I already feel guilty enough.” 

“What,” he began, asking the question he’d been wondering for awhile, “makes you feel so guilty?” 

“It’s just that...I broke his heart.” 

He snorted, “It happens.” 

“No, I mean, I really broke his heart.” 

“Well,” he played devil’s advocate, “he must’ve gotten over it if he had a wife and kids.” 

She looked at him, incredulous. “Where do you get off saying something like that, Kaiba?” 

“I just meant that you shouldn’t worry about it,” he explained. “I’m sure he forgave you. That was his nature.” 

“You could’ve just said that Kaiba,” she rolled her eyes. 

“You know I’m no good with this sort of thing,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. 

“What conversation?” She snapped. 

“Look, I’m trying alright? I’m having a tough time with the media as is. I don’t need another person scorning me.” 

She scrutinized him, hesitant to believe he was being sincere. There was a stern glare in his eyes, though, and a hardness to his mouth that she determined were serious. 

“Fine, I’m sorry, I was a little critical, but it’s hard not to be when you’re critical too.” 

“Have I been this whole night?” 

“No,” her voice strengthened, “but you can’t just erase years of unfriendly interactions.” 

“Not if you don’t give me a chance,” he retorted. He could see by the look on her face that he’d gotten through to her. 

“You’re right,” she conceded, just as dinner arrived. 

The waiter filled the wine glasses. On each plate laid a tender piece of liver, garnished with spring onion and drizzled with au jus. Though it looked expensive, Anzu’s face shriveled at the thought of how fattening it must be. It’s small, she reasoned with herself. Remember what the therapist said, food is nothing to be afraid of. 

Cutting into the fatty food, she lanced a small portion with her fork, lifting it up for examination. Kaiba was already enjoying his first bite and preparing for a second when he looked up to see what she was doing. 

“It’s good. I promise,” he urged, knocking back a hefty portion of his wine before returning to his food. 

She wished she could tell him it wasn’t about the food’s quality, but she wouldn't dare admit something like that to him. It’d just be more fuel for a later snappy comment. If she was going to give him a chance at being a friend, however, she should share something personal with him. 

“We weren’t allowed to eat stuff like this when I was dancing,” she remarked, popping a tiny bite of meat into her mouth. 

“Why? You need fat and protein for your body to perform effectively. How did they expect you to put on any muscle?” He scoffed.

“It was a hard balance staying fit and thin. At least, for me it was.” 

That put him at a crossroads like women seemed to always do even if it was unintentional. If he said he couldn’t believe that, he’d be lying. If he said he could, she’d be insulted. Though, he wouldn’t be meaning to call her fat, she just had a voluptuous figure. One he didn’t mind at all. 

“As it is for all of us,” he settled, going the polite route. 

“Kaiba, no offense, but from what I can see, you never had trouble staying fit and thin,” she chuckled. 

“On the contrary, I might not have had trouble being slim, but I don’t put on muscle easily. It’s why I can eat things like this all day.” He locked eyes with her and she felt unable to turn away as his teeth clenched down on his fork, his lips slowly pulling the bite into his mouth. She shifted a little in her seat. 

“But,” he swallowed, “I do have to exercise extensively.” 

“Well,” she continued to watch him, still unsettled, “I have to exercise and diet until I drop dead to stay slim.” 

He examined her up and down in a way Anzu had never been looked at before. It felt cold and analyzing. “Do you want to be that thin?” 

She rubbed her neck, looking out the window as she admitted, “No.” 

“Then, why not live a little, Mazaki?” 

He held up his fork to her, waiting. She glanced at the tender bite gleaming in the light. It looked delicious. Her first bite was juicy, filling her mouth with a savory flavor. Her eyes looked up to him, still staring at her with a half-hearted smile. “Come on,” he coaxed, lifting the fork a little higher. 

Hesitantly, she leaned in, gulping. She opened her mouth and held the fork between her teeth for a moment as the softness of the liver melted on her tongue. Her shoulders relaxed as the taste echoed throughout her body. She finally drew the bite into her mouth, chewing with a soft smile as her tongue absorbed the flavors that tickled it. Kaiba appeared pleased. Too pleased. 

“See? Was that so bad?” 

“No,” she breathed, relieved and amused at her own fear. 

She observed the wine glass sitting next to her, untouched on the table and a wild thought came over her. Pinching the neck of the glass, she rotating it in miniscule circles, admiring the dark red liquid as it rippled. Then, she fixed her gaze on Kaiba’s and guzzled the wine down in one, unwavering breath. He smirked, nodding. 

“Impressive.” 

“Pour me another,” she ordered, chuckling as she held out her glass. 

“Don’t order me around, Mazaki,” he warned. 

“Pour me another, please.” She emphasized the last word. 

He picked up the bottle and slowly filled her glass, examining her all the while. “You’re an interesting girl, Mazaki,” he mused. 

She filled his glass in return. “Why do you keep calling me, Mazaki?”   
He rested his chin against the palm of his hand. “And what should I call you, Mazaki?” 

“Anzu,” she insisted. “Just call me Anzu.” 

“It’s more fun to call you Mazaki, Mazaki,” he teased. 

“What if I think it’s more fun to call you Seto, Seto?” 

“It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.” He smiled, taking a large swig of his wine. 

She huffed. “You’re so annoying.” 

“And you’re fun to annoy.” 

She let out a single airy laugh. They sat in silence for a few moments, drinking their wine and finishing the rest of dinner. To her surprise, she finished her plate and didn’t feel too guilty about it. 

“Now, for the real reason I brought you here,” Kaiba announced, pouring his fourth glass of wine. 

Of course he couldn’t just be bringing her here as an apology. There had to be something to it. 

His attention turned to outside the window and he smirked. “Have you heard about the rumors?” 

She blinked. “About what?” 

“Good,” he remarked, something sinister in his tone. “Then, I need you to do one favor.” 

He entwined his hands in hers and she felt the cold rush of his fingertips against her warm palms. Every muscle in her body stiffened as she felt the suddenness of his touch. 

“Look at me,” he prompted in a low, gravelly voice. 

As she looked into his eyes, she sensed a flash out of the corner of her eyes, but it was too late. By the time she faced the window, the reporter was ducking out of sight with his camera, crouching as he hurried away. She turned back to Kaiba, whose devilish grin only broadened, bearing his pointed teeth. 

What had he done?


End file.
